The Story of My New Bed

So I have been in San Francisco exactly one week today. Already I feel quite at home. One big thing that I have been lacking however is a bed...

My lovely roommate C. had surprised me when I arrived at the house last week with an air mattress already blown up, laying in the middle of my bedroom floor, adorned with clean ivory sheets. I have to admit that it was quite a nice welcome. After the 6 hour flight, lugging my two 50 lb. suitcases around, I was ready to collapse on it.

Although her mattress generosity was appreciated with my wide open arms, I put it as number one (well, maybe number two...three, whatever) on my list of "things to do" this weekend: buy a proper bed for myself. After all, it seems like a very mature and grown up thing to do. I have to admit (confessions!) that I slept on an air mattress for over a year in NYC until my parents came to visit. They were horrified and dismayed at my living conditions as a 23 year old and insisted on purchasing a bed for me. This time around, I was resolved to get a bed BEFORE my parents came to visit. Today, the fates smiled on me.

So, here we go...

I spent about 3 hours walking around Union Square this morning, searching for warmer clothes (that was the actual number one on my list) and I decided to get some "exercise" by walking home 2 miles up and down a very large hill, hauling with me a Burlington Coat Factory shopping bag filled with warmer purchases.

I get to my street and I turn right to walk down to my house and I notice there is a homeless man, about 60 years old, muttering to himself and kicking a pink mattress that is laid out against the side of my neighbor's house. The mattress was wrapped in clear plastic and there was a sign on it that said "New" which was crossed out, and then underneath "Free." The old homeless man looks me straight in the eye, points to the mattress and says "It's free if you want it" and then walks off. (Note: The mattress was left out by the neighbor, not the homeless man.)

"Huh?" I think to myself.

I look a little more closely at the mattress, expecting to see dark reddish brown stains, mice droppings, bugs... or possibly worse. But it looks like it is in perfectly great condition.

"Huh!" I think to myself again. I grab the edge of the mattress and I try to lift it. It slips out of my hands immediately and I realize that it is actually incredibly heavy. I pathetically try sliding it up the sidewalk instead, my house being only about 20 feet away. I get closer and closer, inch by inch, and then it dawns on me that once I actually get it to my house, I will need to get it up to the third floor somehow.

"Huh" again (this time with a air of discouragement). I lean the mattress against my neighbor's house and remember that no one is home and that both of my roommates are out of town.

And right then this guy walks up and says "Want help?"

I look at him and I freeze.

"Yes I want help!", is what I really want to say but then the part of my brain that tries to make good, safe, rational decisions kicks in. I check out this guy, this stranger... late twenties, all black clothing, fedora hat, chain hanging out of his pocket, reeking of marijuana... and I conclude that he seems like a bit of a risk.

But, you know what, I really want this bed. And from what Scott McKenzie tells me, San Francisco is full of "gentle" people. I say a little prayer and I go for it...

"Sure!" I said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm to cover my doubt.

He goes to the front of the mattress, picks it up, turns his head toward me and says, "You get the back." A little shocked by his proactiveness, I fall right into line, picking up the tail end behind him.

When we get to my house, I point to it and nervously say, "This is me... umm, are you up for a couple flight of stairs?" He looks at me, smiles and says, "Yep. Let's do it."

So he and I carry this big pink mattress up about two flights of stairs and around the 180 degree curve in the stairwell, him having to almost literally bend the mattress in half to fit it around. We get it to the top, he leans it against the side of the hallway, shakes my hand and says, "I'm Jared, nice to meet you." Completely out of breath at this point, I take his hand and say "Thankssss, (gasp on the inhale) I... am Rachael." He says "Glad I could help, hope to see you around the neighborhood again" and marches right out the door with a smile and a wave before I can even catch my breath again.

"Huh." I think to myself, chest heaving, staring at the pink mattress that is now safely on the third floor of my house. I smile and almost laugh out loud to myself, except that I am still gasping for air.

Thanks for the bed, San Francisco.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SB2tYYYlwMc