“Lauren, no!” Erin whined, stamping her feet and rubbing her tummy. “I can’t do it.”
“You can and you will!” I cried, signaling George to check the doorway, trying to think of a diversion that would get rid of our building manager.
“No one’s there!” George gasped.
“He must have went to the bathroom…” Erin said, going to see for herself.
“Come on, Erin! Don’t be a tampon! This is our chance for awesomeness!”
Erin took a deep breath knowing there was no point in trying to fight it – we were on a mission. She begrudgingly wiped her mouth with her sleeve, marched up three steps, hoisted up her end of the mattress and said, “All right, here we go.”
It was easier to get the mattress through the lobby and out the front doors because a) there was no one to stop us and b) it was an open space. Once outside, Erin, George and I were plastered into the snow, under the weight of the mattress and an extremely underestimated wind. We persevered though, and eventually carried it to the street.
We looked at the downward direction, following the curves of the winding street thinking to ourselves, “Are we really doing this.” The answer? Fuck yeah.
We approached the mattress sled like you would a car that needs an extra push. I sat on top – George and Erin pushing behind me. Erin would hop on after a few seconds, then George would jump onto the mattress – using his weight to propel us forward.
“Lauren!” Erin called, as I prepared to take my seat.
“If we die…I love you.”
“I love you too dude.”
“And no one loves me,” George scoffed. “Let’s do this!”
“All right,” I screamed, “on the count of three. One. Two. THREE!”
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