This morning I went to rouse Dominic out of bed because we had to go out (usually I let him get up when he feels like it)… I tossed some clothes up on the top bunk for him and told him to get up. He couldn’t get his shorts on (they are cut-off jeans and the frayed part kept getting caught on his toes) so I told him to come down and I’d help him. He forgot to bring the shorts with him, so I reached up to grab them. I’m too short to reach over the top of the rail, so I reached between the slats.
This is a wooden bunk bed. The side rail is about 6 feet long, is made of two long boards and three short boards, and slides into grooves on the ends of the bed to keep it in, but also have it easily removable.
Well, my arm got stuck. I had pushed in in past the elbow, and I could not get it back out. I tried for about five minutes, then I decided I needed to take the rail down. Lifting it up was very painful. I had to raise it by about 9 inches to get it out of the grooves, and as I said I’m not tall enough to even reach over the top of it, let alone move it up that high with my upper arm stuck in it! [it was at this point that I was seriously considering having Dominic call 911] Finally after trying everything, I just went for it and nearly screamed. Almost ripped my arm off. But in the end I had the whole rail off the bed–and on my arm.
I tried to get it off again. No luck. I needed help. I ended up calling Dominic’s babysitter’s house to see if her mom was there. They live just at the end of our ‘block’ [read: parking lot loop]. Her mom was there and I said “Can I come over? I have a sort of…emergency.” She said “sure… I’m in my pyjamas…” “That’s ok. It’s either this or call the fire department!” “are you hurt?” “No, just stuck.”
And so I walked down the street to her house, carrying this huge bunkbed rail with me. It was hard to get close enough to her door to knock. We worked it a little, then she went into the kitchen and got a can of spray-on cooking oil. We lubed up my arm and it popped right out! Woohoo! I had a big welt around my arm, and it still hurt, but I was free!
We laughed about it, and in all honesty I wasn’t really embarrassed. But I felt like I should be.