I Don't Get Excited to Sleep On the Top Bunk Anymore. Sad.
Not sure where the shift occurs, but it’s a fascinating pivot in life that often goes unnoticed. Somewhere along the line, we stop calling dibs on the top bunk.
A once fun, adventurous sleeping vessel no longer possesses the zest and charm it once had. Now, it’s a chafe, a bullshit E-tier Airbnb sleeping arrangement. From love to loathe. Where did it all go wrong?
Did its appeal simply wear off? Oh look at me, I get to climb a ladder before I sleep like some grizzled pirate, yawn. Oh look at me, I’m sleeping high in the air, yawn. Oh look at me, if an intruder comes I’m the 2nd safest person in this room, yawn.
Or was it because of college? The people who slept up there grew tired of drunkenly scaling their bed every night. (Little harder to get up there after polishing off 14 Natty Lights, I’ll tell you that much!) Bringing a girl back and surprising her with the fun game of “climb the ladder before we make out.” Having sex in one position like some dork.
Something about climbing up there at a young age. Getting settled, nestled in. Breathing in that cool, next to the ceiling air. Safest I’ve ever felt. Now I watch these jail documentaries where dudes straight murder eachother over who gets the bottom bunk!
Was just on a top bunk. Guys’ trip, golf. It was the least-desired bed, and since I can really sleep anywhere, I slept on her.
Did it feel extremely unstable when climbing the ladder? Yeah.
Did it make a shit ton of noise when I tossed and turned? Yup.
Was it sweet that I had a different sleeping view than I’m usually accustomed to? Not really.
Could I feel any hint of giddiness that my younger self would’ve experienced when sleeping on the top bunk? Negative.
What the fuck happened to me man?
- Bobby D
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