|Mooring alongside to an anchored ship. This was a nice day. Today was not.|
So, it went like this- tug was rolling and pitching, periodically bashing into our starboard side. This caused us to roll and pitch a little more, and created a motion where the tug would bounce off our side, rattling the whole barge, then we would pull a foot or so off of the ship as we rolled, and then come back to the ship with a crash.
Picture the last coffee bean in the can when you shake the can. That's what was going on in my bunk when I was trying to sleep. When a particularly bad hit caused something to break in the galley, I got out of bed just as a lee-lurch (a rapid sideways thrust) threw the whole deck 3 feet sideways, and my ass shot across the room like a pinball and I rolled ass-end-over until I fetched up against a locker about 10 feet away.
So, in the galley, the tankerman on watch hears everything on board rattle, then a thump, then, apparently a sound like a bowling ball going down the alley, then another thump, perfectly clearly through the usually-adequate soundproofing, a muted "Ow! Fuuuuuck me." I come out of the bunkroom with a scowl, and he's waiting for me, giggling, with one arm propped against the bulkhead (wall) and the other against the dinner table.
Rule #9 at sea: in a storm, other people's stumbles and bruises are hilarious, until they're not.