Once Upon a Mattress


My mattress came today.

Three aggressive, hard-working Latino boys dark with sweat fought the three flights of stairs to get the queen-sized promise of dreamful sleep up to my bedroom. I buzzed them in and then opened my door so that the delivery workers would not have to stop. Standing there like a guest upon whose face the door had been slammed was the box of CD stands that I bought in Reading, PA maybe five days ago, or three cities ago, an eternity.

Delighted that they had arrived so soon, I welcomed the box into the house, gave it a temporary home, and helped supervise the mattress’s grand entrance into my world. This was a special moment because, as is with most things, God’s hand was all in it.

I was walking hurriedly up 6th Avenue maybe a month ago doing the myriad things I do when I have those three or four solid days of break in New York from the tour. Having assimilated as much as anyone can into the swing of the city, I quickly offered a flyer-presenter the gesture that says, no, thank you, don’t take it personally, and I have shit to do. It’s a necessary gesture in a city where someone is always trying to pass something out to you, and I try to add a bit of politeness by using words, too. Halfway across the street I realized that the flyer was for Sleepy’s Mattress, which was in the area.

I turned around, slightly embarrassed that I had been so automatic with my No to the advertiser. Sleepy's was having a giant sale in fact, wherein mattresses were as much as 40% off.

Needless to say, I went, and Jerry, the Italian salesman, let me lay down on everything in the store. Double pillow tops, single pillow tops, everything. I settled on his Kingsdown mattress, convinced that of the many salesman in the place, Jerry was the only one committed enough to move the mattress off of the box spring and on to a platform bed so that I could experience it the way it would be felt in my room. Jerry went on to tell me that if I put $25 down on the mattress it would hold the sale price while I flitted about the country trying different mattresses at hotels, and in stores, and I had the option to change mattresses at any point.

This mattress you see, is very important because between the end of the tour in Toronto, the extended concert with three opening acts, and the tour-end Halloween party a few nights before, I haven’t slept a lot. Like many others on the tour, I craved that single moment when I could walk into my place and fall out. To leave the fun, the party, the intoxication of dancing before multiple thousands of people, the otherworldly feel of visiting many cities and leaving them before their beds get truly warm, to leave this and end up at home in the path of a good sleep at the intersection of a normal dream and a wonderful mattress.

And although I made it here to New York on Saturday afternoon with no cab drama, I had to settle for the worn futon, makeshift bedding capable of only makeshift sleep. This morning at 10:47, minutes after my spirit woke me up and gave me thought to turn on my cell phone just in case the delivery men needed to call, they did. As Sleepy’s promised, they freely delivered my $1700 mattress that absorbed only $800 out of my pocket, thank you God (and Jerry). And now, cushioned by a down pillow or a Tempurpedic depending on what mood my neck and back and shoulders are in, I can sleep.