I stepped into my room in Paris, exhausted but giddy. It was a shared room in a hostel on the Left Bank, up four flights of creaky stairs. After a long flight all I really wanted to do was lie down, just for a second, to try to process the notion that I was, indeed, in Paris.
I quickly scanned the room - small and basic, but clean and with a little character to boot. There were two sets of bunk beds so I thought I'd settle in and claim one. None of my roommates were in at that time, but one set of beds had clearly been used. The blankets were rumpled and random pieces of clothing were draped over the edge. I wasn't so sure about the second set - they both seemed neat and tidy but there was a duffel bag shoved under the bottom bunk. With nobody around to ask, and not wanting to annoy my fellow bed mates, I decided to take the top bunk.
But, ummm...
There was no ladder.
I am 5' 1" and have never been described as athletic. For a solid five minutes I think I just stared at the bed. Surely I was missing something, right? What was I supposed to do, take a running leap and hope for the best? Suddenly I had flashbacks of the pommel horse in gym class...I never did make it over that stupid thing. Eventually I put a tentative foot on the edge of the bottom bed and peeked over the top mattress. I did a little hop. There was no way on earth I could jump up from there. Even worse than the realization that I was stranded, was the fear that one of the roommates would walk in as I was awkwardly balancing and hopping.
Then I spotted a small stool in the corner, disguised by a jacket. That might do the trick! Dragging it over, I angled for the best possible position from which to climb. Just about then, someone walked in. She said hello and went about her business in the other room, walking back in periodically. Certain that I did not want to make my first attempt at climbing while she stood watching, I nonchalantly looked through my bag, searching for nothing in particular, and made my best effort to look busy. Hum-dee-dum.
Finally she left and I scrambled over to the stool. It helped a little, but this was not going to be pretty. I managed, barely, to jump up waist high, then scoot forward enough to swing my leg over. With the other leg still hanging down, I did a little roll and somehow ended up on my back, safe and sound (sort of) on the top bunk. I was up there, and I planned to stay up there for awhile! But let me tell you, getting back down was no more graceful.
That evening I came back after seeing some sights and two girls were in the room, the one I met earlier and a new one. We all stood chatting, and suddenly the new girl sprang across the room, vaulted like some kind of circus freak, and landed ever so effortlessly on the top bunk. I could not fathom in my wildest imagination how that was possible. I was in awe and hated her at the same time.
Then the other girl said, "Oh, let me move my duffel bag. No one is using that bottom bunk. You can take it if you want."
Thank GOD.
