Things I Hate, Volume 2

I had the fortunate opportunity to stay in a hospital room recently, though not as a patient. I was able to avail myself of a pull out couch in said room.

Now, most of you will picture the classic hide-a-bed, perhaps with some springs like loving punji stakes waiting to provide a macabre accupuncture. WRONG. This was a loveseat with a pullout slab of plywood…that comes out of the fucking SIDE OF THE COUCH. You then lay the back cushions onto this counter top to create the necessary length for a person about 5 foot 6 to lay upon comfortably. I am not 5 foot 6. I exceed this length by enough inches to be able to look upon such a piece of furniture with dubious expression and indeed, trepidation. And then I tried to lay on it.

Now understand, I have had some uncomfortable sleeping arrangements in my life. While deployed, I used an aluminum cot. While training, I used a sleeping bag on bare concrete. I’ve slept in a foxhole. All of these were luxurious in comparison.

I didn’t search for a label on the loveseat of malfeasance, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t made in China. It was likely a torture device invented by the Viet Cong. I am nearly certain that John McCain had to sleep on one of these during his stay at the Hanoi Hilton. If so, it’s a wonder he survived.

I awoke with more aches and pains than the Detroit Lions front line accumulates in a season. The crick in my neck was so severe the nurses almost admitted me to ER against my will. It was all I could do to resist the fucking urge to yell “Sanctuary!!!!” at the top of my lungs.

And so, as I have recovered from my stay, I salute you Futon of Death. But I salute you with one finger. Guess which one. May you be replaced with adult sized boppy pillows.