From the Further Adventures of Captain William 'Kiss My Ass' Riker: Party on the Pagh!
At some point during the Enterprise's many blow-out parties (and I do mean many), Captain Picard would call out, "Oh Commander Riker, please regale the room about the time you bested that Junior Klingon officer in fisticuffs." After serving on a Klingon vessel as part of an exchange program, Riker had told Picard that he had secured his second-in-command position by beating up an officer named Klag. This, of course, played to Picard's prejudices concerning Klingons, and he readily accepted Riker's story. If Riker had told Picard that he had KO'd a grizzly bear with a right hook, it might have been just about as plausible. Klingons are an unusually robust humanoid species, and an asthmatic Klingon could have handed Riker his ass without breaking a sweat.
While the typical Klingon may be a murderous, drunken cutthroat, by and large they respect protocol, and Riker was allowed to take his position aboard the Pagh without ceremony. And when Riker served aboard the Pagh his day was synchonized like a beautiful pocket watch:
08:00...eat something awful, squirmy, and still alive
09:00...receive his morning wedgie from Captain Kargan
09:30...puke up the squirmy and still alive Klingon breakfast
10:00...pantsed by Captain Kargan on the bridge in front of the whole crew
11:00...fight off the targ that some Klingon a-hole set loose in his quarters (and really, that was immature even by Klingon standards)
12:00...eat something awful squirmy and still alive
12:30...puke up the squirmy and still alive Klingon lunch
13:00...hide in the aft section in an desperate attempt to sleep off the Klingon blood wine hangover
15:00...wake up from his drunken stupor to find a gob of shaving cream in one ear and "I R GAY" scrawled in sharpie across his stomach
16:00...attempt to finish some bullshit survey while Kargon tells him an incomprehensible Klingon joke while punching him in the arm
17:00...start pounding the blood wine
And oh how Riker loved the Klingon blood wine. It had this awful sickly sweet smell like putrid death. And if you could keep it down, it would get you fucked up. Majorly fucked up. One glass and Riker was ready to play "knock the noggin" with his fellow shipmates (not a great game to play with Klingons, trust me). Riker never asked where it came from or how it was made on the (correct) assumption that the answer would haunt and disturb him to the end of his days.
A week into his tour, Riker fell madly in love with an officer named Bah'let. Oh she was fine, supple clear skin, subdued ridges, and nice rack packed into that breastplate. Her laugh was loud, boisterous, and infectious. She hated Ferengis almost as much as Riker! A night of Klingon wine, an assload of PCP, and little of that Riker charm soon left him in traction and back aboard the Enterprise
The day of Riker's first meeting with the Hutch was a difficult one indeed. He was hung over; he was fresh out of amphetamines; he was stuck with Lt. Cmd. Worf. Riker had promoted Worf to second-in-command earlier that day and already he was regretting it. Not that Riker had anything against Klingons. Far from it. Klingons were fun. Riker had partied with them a lot, and he had only nearly died just that one time. Riker enjoyed his time on the Pagh in the same way one might enjoy their time in a particularly intense and sadistic fraternity. Or perhaps it was Stockholm syndrome. It was hard to tell. But Klingons loved two things: murder and partying and not necessarily in that order. And of those two thing, Worf loved exactly zero of them. Worf spent his time meditating and grousing about honor. As far as Riker could tell, the only thing Worf loved was being miserable. Worf's inability to conform to this narrow sterotype frustrated Riker to no end. He was a total wet blanket and his very presence ruined all of Riker's racist Klingon jokes.