I know it sounds ridiculous now in the IKEA era, when civilization's great leap forward rests on the FÖRHÖJA and progress hinges on a frustrated attempt to piece together a BEDDINGE LÖVÅS tastefully paired with a PÅTÅR. But the truth is that there was a time when I had no idea what a futon was.
Then again, I grew up in rural Nebraska, which pretty much explains a lot about me. There in the heartland furniture was stout and solid -- to match the people -- and the most exotic piece was the La-Z-Boy rocker-recliner.
I remember rather clearly, in fact, the first time that I even heard the word "futon," because it occurred during my telephone introduction to one of my soon-to-be freshman roommates which basically confirmed every fear I had about going off to the Ivy League. The pertinent part of the conversation went something like this:
Smakler (in an affected vaguely-British accent): ...Oh swimmingly, I'm sure. And I was hoping you might be interested in splitting the cost of a futon for the suite.
Me: Oh, um, sure. I guess that sounds ok, but we should probably wait to see what everyone else is bringing, too.
Smakler: Also, perhaps you'd be interested in splitting a laser printer.
Me: Er... maybe, but I don't actually have a computer, so, uh, maybe that can wait.
Smakler: Blimey! Well, cheerio. Ehh, googly googly.
too much time with Monty Python and was completely unrepresentative of the rest of my Yale experience. And I shouldn't have felt that bad anyway as I also recall freaking out the next day to a friend of mine:Me: Can you believe it? A laser printer?! Does he know how much those cost?* And what the hell is a futon?
Amy: I think it's some sort of wok.
I didn't actually end up with a futon in college, as it turns out, but it has been a standard piece of furniture ever since. In fact, there are now two of them in my apartment. And I praise their simple ease and convenient duality. And they have received much use.
Yes, now I can't imagine life without the futon and all the friends who have crashed upon it at some point or another. Like Ebony. Yesterday. Yay!!
* It was 1992. They were like a billion dollars back then.
3 Comments:
Lol! I loved that you wrote about this. I was there for the "Amy" conversation; one of my favorites. None of us really knew what it was.
And your futon was very un-futon-like, too. Tres comfortable.
Zach, even though I failed to get a single picture of you in the 6 days I was in your fair city, I had a lovely time; as evidenced by the fact that I am still dreaming about dim sum.
You are a host among hosts, sir!
I remember going to the Casper mall with my parents (when they were still married) and my brothers one The Big Trip To Buy The Futon. We were in my dad's little green Ford Fiesta (yes, five of us) and we had to unroll the futon in the back of the car with the seats folded down, and the three of us kids laid down on the futon for the two-hour drive home. Seat belts? What seat belts?
We called it the Futon Torpedo.
My point being, I guess, that it was a novel thing at that time, and a big deal. And now futons are something people leave out with the trash.
What a world, what a world.
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