The story I am about to tell you is one of the greatest I have ever endured.
My best friend's girlfriend, Shannon, was moving into her friend's house this weekend and I decided to be a good friend and help her move. Alongside my boyfriend/side-kick, Joe, we set out on a journey to assist someone for the first time in our lives. As you could imagine, Joe and I almost died, we almost killed someone, and we were left tired and sweaty.
And so, we set out to the Storage Unit which contained Shannon's mattress, box spring, and coveted sheets and blankets. It took us approximately 1.5 hours to find the storage unit as Apple maps kindly fucked us in the asshole by taking us to the wrong place. Also, there are 2 storage units on Rt. 9, and both are on opposite sides.
Along the way there, I, the driver, almost got into 2 car accidents and almost killed a Chinese man driving a FIAT. I had so many questions, but he sped away too quickly for me to ask him any.
Finally we arrived, and I had to piss like a racehorse. Coincidentally, racehorses are always in a severe need to urinate.
We stepped in to the main door only to find that there is an elevator. I am deathly-horrified of elevators and have a severe phobia and paranoia about getting trapped inside one. Was there a secondary staircase in case of emergencies for pussies like me to use? Abso-fucking-lutely not.
There was a sign claiming to have "video surveillance" but I'm positive the Indian man who watches those tapes was probably passed the fuck out.
After swallowing my fears and putting my tampon back into my gaping pussy, (because I clearly have one), Joe and I went into the actual Unit itself to find an army's supply of shit waiting for us.
After 25 minutes of wrestling, sweating, and cursing, we managed to get the gigantic mattress, box spring, and assorted accessories out of the unit and into/on top of my car.
The mattress was covered in plastic but had a pink rope-like string attached to it which I used to tie down to the car.
The box-spring was also covered in plastic, but had no such rope. Instead, I had previously asked Joe to bring along some rope. What did he give me? Some motherfucking twine-yarn.
I figured that since he gave me so much of it, using lots of the yarn would compensate for the fact that it was weaker than my great-grandfather's erections.
We cut the string using a wine bottle opener that Shannon's mom had (we won't ask why) and proceeded to poorly wrap it around my 1997 Subaru Outback.
After a test drive around the lot, we figured it was road-worthy. Keep in mind, we were heading onto Route 9, the Mother of all asshole highways.
I pulled out onto the highway and for 20-30 seconds everything was fine. Joe then told me "Get into the left lane, were going to make a slight left turn up ahead."
And as I simply attempted to get into the left lane we both heard a crash behind us.
"OH FUCK!" we both screamed simultaneously.
We looked behind us and saw the box spring fall, and land in the middle of Route 9.
I checked to the right of me and darted into the shoulder, I pulled out my keys and started sprinting after the box-spring. Joe was only inches behind me.
It was at this point I was laughing hysterically because amazingly, I didn't hit anybody. Somehow I had managed to avoid hitting a car behind me and I don't know how lucky I am for that, but I assume that if there had been somebody, I'd be writing this blog post from a prison.
And it wouldn't be a blog post, it would be a testimony.
Before I continue, I would just like you all to imagine the sight of seeing a hipster-atheist and an Italian running down Route 9, chasing after a box-spring lying dead in the center of the highway.
That was me.
Joe and I managed to throw the box-spring onto the grassy side off the highway. Joe stood like a soldier, managing the furniture as I slowly backed up.
Where we had landed was the middle section between a Dunkin' Donuts and a White Castle. I had driven my car about 100-200 feet past the drive-way entrance into the White Castle and so I had to go IN REVERSE while in the shoulder of one of the most deadly highways in New Jersey.
Cars beeped, people were confused, and my entire body was sweaty and horrified. I parked in the White Castle lot and Joe and I carried the box-spring over to the side of the car.
It was at this point that I had to pee for over an hour, and so I bolted over to the Dunkin' Donuts to use it's bathroom. Because White Castle bathrooms just isn't classy enough. Although I must say, that I did think I was going to get raped inside the Dunkin' Donuts. But whatever.
Joe and I stood there, alone in the White Castle parking lot, mouths agape. We were not only amazed that we, nor anybody else, didn't die, but we were also terrified at the fact that we didn't know what to do. We had a box-spring that couldn't fit, and couldn't be tied down. We had a mattress on top of my car, practically about to fall off, and we were miles from our homes.
I was about to call my grandparents when a Ford pickup truck was on its way out of White Castle.
Jokingly I said, "Hey, wanna help us?" Joe and I chuckled until- they stopped- went in reverse- and rolled down the windows, "You guys want some help?"
The driver, a man 2 inches shorter than me, about 45-50, got out and asked where we were headed. I told him and asked if we could haul our shit into his truck and have him bring it to the house for us- offering him money, of course.
He replied with, "Nah, I'll do you one better" and took out straps that tied tightly around the box-spring and mattress. His wife, the passenger in the car, told us that he was a mover and did this for a living.
My nipples were so intensely hard that I could no longer breathe. I couldn't fucking believe it. A mover, just happened to pass by me and Joe, 2 fucking idiots that couldn't tie a box-spring to the top of a station wagon, and was helping us out of one of the biggest shit storms we have ever encountered.
He finished tying them and Joe and I begged to give him money to which he retorted with, "hey, just keep it and instead Pay It Forward, do something nice for someone else."
I couldn't believe it. I would have sucked this man's dick if he asked me to.
They left and Joe and I took off onto the road yet again, this time going no faster than 35 miles per hour.
The ride was supposed to take us 11 minutes but instead took us 24. Joe and I arrived at the new residence but could not take OFF the straps the man had lent us. Joe managed to get his off, but of course mine was just too much of a fucking asshole. So we used a butcher's knife to sever it.
After carrying the massive motherfuckers up 2 flights of stairs, dodging family photos and chandeliers, Joe and I collapsed on top of the bed that had nearly cost us our dignity, currency, and lives.
As we lied down I said, "time for a selfie" and took some magnificent photos.
This was the FIRST day of Summer, June 21st, and I think it was just a fantastic way to start it off. I just hope I can survive the rest.