My sister and I used to fight for who got to sleep on top bunk. The person who ended up getting stuck on bottom bunk would put her feet between the slats and lift the mattress so that the person on top couldn’t enjoy the victory too much.
One of the things I miss – now that I have to pretend to be an adult – is bunk-beds. Bunk-beds are the ultimate when you are a kid, because all you need to do to have a really cool tent is hang a sheet from the top bunk and tuck it under the mattress on bottom bunk. At that point, you have a two level yacht with a complicated navigational system – a Lite-Brite set with a sailboat depicted on it in red, blue and green pegs.
You might also use the bed as a castle fortress, retreating to the highest tier when a vicious lion and/or black poodle nips at your ankles.
On a less imaginative day, the top bunk might simply be your swingin’ singles pad in mid-town Manhattan.
Whatever you chose to make of it, the bunk-bed was a great kid accessory. So imagine my forty-year-old woman delight when I went RV camping this weekend and there at my disposal was a bunk-bed. I “called” the top bunk so quick heads were spinning.
There were four bunk-beds. My daughter and I got the coveted top bunks while my mom slept on one of the bottom ones. My mom was pretty sure I was going to kill myself getting up or down. I made my daughter a little nervous too, when I’d hang over the side to reach something on the bunk below. But, I didn’t kill myself or break my neck, and I didn’t roll out while I was sleeping. I fared much better with my bunk than I did with attempting to take a bath in what I later realized was a shower basin. I now know that the difference between a shower basin and a bathtub is about 12 inches and the ability to climb out without devine intervention.
There was no real mattress to speak of on the top bunk. What you slept on was basically a long pillow about 3 inches thick. But, that was alright. I slept like a nine year old kid, so it was all good.