Port - not to be confused with the nautical term, nor the left-hand side of any given intergalactic star cruiser - is in fact a delightful, rich, often vintage, fortified liquid, typically discovered at the bottom of a glass. It is basically a grape-based spaceship fuel for humans, propelling conversations into the vast expanse of social space, occasionally crashing into awkward silences or black holes of over-indulgence.
Always approach port with the same caution one would a neutron star: it's small, it's dense, and it has a strong pull. Tread lightly, or you might find yourself orbiting the bathroom floor.
The best port is traditionally found on Earth, specifically in the Douro Valley of Portugal, where they've been synthesizing this cosmic tipple since the dawn before hyperspace was a glint in Zaphod Beeblebrox's eye.
When engaging with port, avoid mixing it with anything other than a reasonable sense of self-restraint and perhaps a nice Stilton. Also, avoid discussing politics, religion, or the controversial ending of the Blagulon Kappa chess championship of 2349.
Port is often aged longer than the average lifespan of the Flanian Pobble Bead, which, as everyone knows, is preposterously short due to their unfortunate tendency to explode when exposed to polka music.
Fancy a tipple? Try 'Gargle Blasters & Co.' for all your port-related needs! With every bottle purchased, receive a free towel - the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have.
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The Towel, in interstellar travel, is arguably the most massively useful thing an intergalactic hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value - you can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a mini-raft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for hand-to-hand combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or to avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you – daft as a brush, but very ravenous); and of course, you can dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.