Sleeping: Bag vs. Bed... (EDIT)

So there I was sleeping at the raft shop...on the bottom of an Aire, completely comfortable. Tired after rafting and the BBQ I brought a book and was thinking about reading it but instead I thought about the two variances that I have slept on through life, recent life that is.

After College the only place considered a bed happened to belong to a significant other. Most of the time though I have spent in the tunnel and shelter of my plethora of sleeping bags. Allow me to reiterate:

There were always the Coleman Bags that were cold and wet and HUGE. Those dont count. Not even a little bit. Those were the same bags the averted my folks from camping proper, and actually enjoying it.

Then I got that blue bag named after an elk or something from the Mooses Tooth. That thing rocked. It was synthetic and actually kept its warmth when wet, as I tested it in the winter trips. It perished that fateful day we burnt the boy scout cabin down. Precisely, it melted.

Then I got a Marmot Synthetic bag to replace it with. It rocked. I slept in it so much it lost every quality that made it look like a sleeping bag. And something was missing, so I sent it back and sent me a new one, free, and I still love its bluish grey bombness. The snugglemeister. The cool bit is that I got a long one so that you can stuff your clothes in the foot and keep em warm.

Somewhere in there I got the down Mountain Hardwear bag. The ultimate in abslute warmth and soft lightness, yet not tollerant of moisture. This is the one I have now. I think in the last 6 years I may have out grown it, OR it needs a major laundering. The cool part about this one is the built in pocket with a mosquito head net. That thing saved my bloood on the picnic table up in the Tobacco Roots at the No Tell Hotel. I remember the mosquitos being worse than the B52s up in Canada during the canoe trips. Thats the night I learned how Moths were trying to save my life and consumed millions of the blood thirsty suckers.

Then Garrett passed me on the Double Coleman. This one counts. I mistakenly left it in NM, but being a river rat with a van down by the river I feel that the necessity to be roomy was optimal. Infact, I have never slept warmly with so much room ever! But the thing was Gigantic, so I gave it its own compartmant in the Toaster Vans quarters. Im pretty sure Amanda likes it. She probably likes it more than me. As well its great for hiding things out of sight. Its large enough to cover 4 kayaks, 30 cases of beer, two dogs, the entire inside of the van, one motorcycle, fishing equipment, and the sun from hitting my face. If I could find one in sweet down and cheap, yeah, thatd be good. Real good.

As for beds, the one in the basement apartment in Bozeman was scary, moreso the actual apartment. The one in Santa Fe is great but lonely. The one in Spokanistan needs rails to keep me from rolling off it in mid slumber. And the futon in Red Lodge has kept me alive for a couple years. I dont think I could have made it without Cooper spooning me awake, but the ass to the face part I'll try and pass on from here on out...

EDIT: There are some major beds that I forgot to mention in some far out places around the world. Let me begin in Nebraska... The waterbed that I blew a hole in with schrapnel from that Belgian AntiAircraft round, I should be blind and seasick... The guest room bed was a trampoline that was always inviting injury. The Bunkbed that I jumped off to smash the light with my head and rolled off of on a weekly basis, always interesting.

Then theres the Rafiki mattress and mosquito net contraption. Painful and hot and sweaty. I remember waking up and pulling a pair of shorts on with a mother scorpion in em = a ballsy experience. Costa Rica was never dull, like sleeping through giant earthquakes, and floating through dreams during torrential downpours. Always tired.

The bed in Cairo was a nice home away from home. Although it seemed that I could never find the right climate controlling blanket. It was also magnetic, so much that I found it hard to get out of in the mornings until a funk drifted awry and warned me it was time to get up and go and get covered in diesel exhaust. I saw a lot of four posters here... and dust from the sandstorms!!

Verdict: The Double Bag on a Raft
(EDIT: Make sure to release the air on the thwarts or
something similar to a broken back will ensue, with lots of drool)