This is a no shitter-
It was our last night in port and I was maybe a little more drunk than I should have been in Naples. Still made it back to fleet landing and caught the liberty launch back to the ship.
Stumbled my way down to berthing, climbed in my rack and passed out.
Came to mid-morning to the ship rocking and heaving and panicked for a minute knowing I had missed quarters and my sea and anchor detail. Hopped out of my rack to get dressed and face the music.
Couldn't find my uniform, couldn't get my locker open, didn't recognize any of the compartment cleaners and the berthing wasn't quite right.
Finally realized I must have crashed in the wrong berthing so I climbed the ladder to go to my berthing.
That's when the real panick set in because when I popped up out if berthing it was pretty clear that I was on the wrong fucking SHIP!
Underway, in the Med.
Fuck me in the ass with a nonskid dildo! That was embarrassing as hell!
Had to find the command Masterchief of the wrong ship and get transferred by small boat back to my own ship.
Surprisingly, I didn't get in any serious trouble because everyone was laughing at me so much.
That is almost as bad as a pilot landing on the wrong carrier.