November 8th, 2009
Sofa beds… they were all the rage when I was in my early teens. Everyone’s family had one and in fact I own one to date (be it a loveseat version from Ikea, but a pull-out nonetheless). Oh how convenient they were for hosting family from out of town and perfect for sleepovers, an extremely popular activity for young females. The coveted sleepover-why was spending the night such a big deal? (Sleeping over seems to still be coveted in my thirties, but for a completely different reason). I would have loved to have been the guy who designed the hide-a-bed. Imagine pitching this idea to the sofa people. “Okay guys, it’s a couch by day and bed by night. It’s also going to be the heaviest mother ‘beeper’ in the whole world. People will love them, and families will all need one.”
What I don’t think the creator of the moon lighting couch considered was the chance that a couple of tweenies would fold the bed around themselves and try returning the couch to its day time appearance with a human tucked within its multi-seating guts.
Sarah, a friend of mine, was over visiting one afternoon- most likely for a sleepover. We were hanging out in the loft above our two car garage in Nova Scotia. I cannot remember the specifics of the inaugural attempt of this daring adventure. Sarah was taller than me, but not by too much- and that’s a feat because I’m 4’11”. She had blonde curly hair and a chin that came to a lovely point. She was a horse lover and over time owned a number of them as well as competing in equestrian events all over the province. Her are a few random Sarah memories: I remember her climbing through pipes for new homes and trying to teach my dog to be a raccoon hunting dog (Where the Red Ferns Grow had a major impact on us for a time). Though unsuccessful I don’t blame her, our dog didn’t come even when you called her.
We thought it out and brainstormed a couple of different positions that might work for this submersion into the darkness. We also had to figure out who was going to go first, and being that I had come up with the brilliant idea I would be the test dummy. We did a test-run by stuffing a number of pillows into the bed to validate that it was possible to fit. However, being that the pillows never screamed out in pain we ultimately determined that one of us was going to have to experience this phenomenon first hand. “If only we had a monkey, or maybe we could squeeze Sam in just to see.” Sam, our family dog, was a black coc-a-poo weighing in at 30lbs. Therefore, his size was not relevant to my survival within the cocoon of the sofa.
Sarah lifted the end of the bed up to a 90 degree angle. I then climbed onto the bed and scooted up to the crease she had created. There was no laughter and little talking. This was serious. Very serious. I then placed my shoulders as flat to the bed as possible, and bent both of my knees in what might have looked like a running position. We didn’t want to risk any over-lapping body parts so I had both knees in contact with the bed. There was however, a limit to how bent my knees could be or how close to a right angle my hips could lay. In our expert opinion the metal bar that folds over the bed could break your leg quite easily. My eyes were facing in parallel to the bed that was not folded up. I was ready, and with sweaty palms I was covered by the end of the bed. Then slowly lifted and dropped into the inner guts of the couch. All the while Sarah was checking in with me wanting to know my status of health. I was in the hollows of the belly of the couch. Though I was frozen in place and could neither move a limb nor turn my head in the blackest dark I had ever experienced, we began to laugh. It was difficult to breath, which instigated my shouts to be removed from my prison. Sarah quickly converted the couch back into its open welcoming bed shape, and I took a deep breath of fresh air. We were elated with joy! I was under for less than 2 minutes but I felt so liberated and excited. We were laughing with such exuberance that I lost my breath all over again. My mom even checked in to make sure we were okay, as in, not up to any trouble.
As any good scientist knows, verifiable results must be easily reproduced. As a result, it was now Sarah’s turn to experience being paralyzed inside the sofa bed. She unlike myself added a stipulation to this daring action. “Please stop if I say I’m scared. If I don’t want to go all the way in, pull me out.” I agreed, but only because she would not get on the bed otherwise, and I really wanted to see what it looked like from the eagle’s eye perspective. As a trusted friend Sarah replicated the same ‘complicated’ position. I, with a bubble of laughter on the verge of over coming my composure, folded the bottom of the bed over my partner inside. I too, like Sarah, checked in with the guinea pig. I was at the tipping point, just before the bed would slip into the gallows when I heard a voice of fear and panic. “Please stop, please let me out!” shouted Sarah, in almost a plea. But the forces of knowing combined with the maturity level of a 13 year old had me push the bed in the rest of the way. Returning the sofa to its day time sitting and entertaining state. I replaced the cushions as though family hugs and waves of goodbye had just taken place, and last minute clean up was required before the new week commenced. The major difference was my friend was within the couch, and screaming to be let out. She began to demand to be removed, and I finally consented, all the while laughing as she cried out in increased hysteria. I pushed the cushions aside and grabbed hold of the bar to pull her out. But with my short stature and loss of strength due to my giggling, all focus was lost. The bed repetitively jammed at the same pivot where Sarah first cried out. After a few failed attempts I realized my friend was panicked and I was unable to pull her out. I gathered my thoughts and gave it the old ‘school girl’ try. Out popped the bed, and Sarah along with it. She was disheveled and upset, and let’s be honest, who won’t be? I said I would stop, and I didn’t. After failing to stop I then repetitively tried to pull the bed out and it kept jamming. For all she knew she was going to be resting inside the sofa for the next twenty minutes to a life time.
With a little practice we improved our technique, and even tried other people’s hide-a-beds. We began sharing our story at school, and a number of the kids did not believe it possible. As a result, Sarah and I thought it best to video the procedure. My family did not have the proper equipment to record these daring events, so Sarah brought over her family’s 10lb video recorder with a blank VHS. We once again had to think this out. How would we document this amazing feat! “Well, we should record the position and the folding part, but we’ll turn off the camera when I’m inside because you are not going to see me anyway.” Yup, turn off the camera. That is what our conclusion came to. So, this is how it appeared when watching footage on TV. In other words, it was never documented.
Lisa: Hi everybody, we are going to show you what it looks like to be folded up into a hide-a-bed. You’ll want to lie down like so on the bed (at which point I am demonstrating the position). You’ll need a friend to complete the rest of the task.
Sarah: Yeah, a real friend that will listen to you.
Lisa: Correct. Okay, we are going to shut down the camera now and complete our work. See ya after.
BLACK OUT
Sarah in real life folded me inside the couch and pulled me out
FADE IN
Lisa: (Sitting on the bed) And that is all there is to it!
July 12th, 2010 at 6:36 am
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