On Top Bunks

I've never really had any fear sleeping on a top bunk. I voluntarily did it all of last year. A certain Congdon boy has experienced top bunks with me multiple times. Sure i shift around quite a bit in my sleep. When i was little my dad would tell me all the crazy positions he saw me in during the night. Many times these included my head or other extremities hanging awkwardly off the bed. I suppose my body just has survival sensors preventing it from plummeting to the floor. Now don't expect me to go sleep in a hammock on the face of Half Dome or anything, these are just observations.

This year my roommate Anson took the top bunk plunge. Oh did he ever. It's nice having my bed so close now, saving that little bit of energy each evening and morning. Although I sometimes miss the jolt of force being absorbed by my feet when i jumped down each morning with a loud thud. I was Anson's alarm clock whether he wanted it or not.

This year the two of us inevitably get into a decent conversation right before or after the lights go out. It usually has to do with memories of family, high school, or something nostalgic. It's our bit of decompression and bonding after a long day. Last night the suite was full of tension, the kind created by brains too full of information. Ideas from Organic chemistry, Great Books, and Political Theory were so consuming our lives that we had little patience to deal with our little suite community. Naturally we began to exploit each other's irritability. After Warren almost killed Anson and i for prodding and wrestling with him (he's about as big as both of us combined), Anson and I resorted to giving each other punches in the shoulder. I regret it now.

All the energy was finally expelled and we both found ourselves in bed, when Anson started rattling our mini-blinds despite my requests fro his silence. I got out of bed, hit him, and crawled back in bed with my CPLS Soccer blanket held tight to my face. Shortly thereafter Anson swung at me from his top bunk perch, "It's over. I have the high ground," he taunted. But unlike Anakin, I performed the ultimate reversal. Grasping onto a poorly aimed fist, I gave a firm tug. Physics did the rest. Down went Anson. As he fell from the top bunk, his head tucked and a quick somersault planted tailbone directly on floor.

I paused, fingered for a light switch, saw he was OK, and erupted in laughter. He did likewise. That happened. Oh did it ever.