Dorm Bunk Beds Life
Dorm life – it isn’t always a pleasure trip. Case in point, the following story outlines one girl’s journey as she battles a bunk bed and searches for peaceful slumber. Oh, who am I kidding, this “girl” is me and here’s an embarrassing account of me falling on my butt. Hard. Really hard.
First semester, freshman year: it was one of those blisteringly hot September nights and for a university that prides itself on technological innovation, the air conditioning in the dorms was practically prehistoric. The “AC” (if you can call it that) consisted of a box fan in a window circulating humid air. 5:00 AM: I’m tossing and turning on the top bunk — you know when you have one of those dreams where you feel like you’re falling then you suddenly jerk awake?
Well, I was struck with that sensation but wait, oh boy — I was actually falling, rolled right off — that was my head striking the tile floor and my body crumpling behind it. I laid there’shocked, trying not to cry because I didn’t want to wake up my roommate (as if the sound of my body plummeting to the floor from 8 feet above wouldn’t wake her). Imagine her surprise as she awoke to find me on the floor, laying in the fetal position, and uttering some weird whimper that sounded like a choking donkey.
Eventually I climbed back up and attempted to get a few hours of shuteye as I pressed my body against the wall and desperately clung to the bed sheet. I awoke ten minutes late for my 9:00 class and ran out the door without so much as brushing my teeth. Get back to the dorm around 11:00 and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. To say I looked like a monster would be a euphemism.
Simply put, I was hideous. Dry blood crusted along the side of my face, my right eyelid was swollen and half shut so that only a sliver of white peaked out, the rest of my face was black and blue like I’d just stepped out of the ring with Muhammad Ali. Hot. I cleaned myself up, grabbed some lunch, ran some errands — I’m barreling along to my 1:00 class “Frankenstein style” the right side of my body was stiff from bearing the brunt of the impact.
Suddenly I hear a snap — the dreaded sound of my right flip-flop breaking. Semi-shoeless, I shuffle on with my head bowed, and what do I notice — my pants — they were on backwards. Of course. Why wouldn’t they be. As I walk into my small, 20 person English class, let’s review — scar faced, limping along with one shoe and backwards pants. Awesome. That night I put in a request for guardrails on my bed and you better believe I displayed them loud and proud.
Future dorm habitants, learn from my lesson– if you’re a mover and shaker, my goodness, put up the guardrails. Better to be safe than sorry. More people do it than you’d think. Here’s to safe and secure slumbering.
