“Well,” I said, clasping my hands somberly, “I guess he’s finally dead.”
The remains of our dear comrade lay there on the hot concrete, twisted and broken. It was like looking down on a rose bush that the Weed Eater had gotten just a little too close to. From the looks on our faces alone, it was obvious that something innocent and beautiful had been destroyed.
“I guess we could just grab another one…”
“Nah.” I cut my bro short. “Let’s go outside. Turn the Xbox off for a bit. Out of respect.”
Red, my beloved lawn chair that I reserved for all my guests, had finally snapped under its burden. We knew a 5 lb. chair could only withstand being sat on by 230 lb. guys for so long before it met with an early grave, but we still couldn’t help but grow to love it. The way it folded up in the corner so conveniently at the end of the day, or how its poorly supported back formed perfectly to your body when you sat down in it. Or its girlish laugh. That chair was the co-pilot’s seat to all my split-screen video game endeavors and my go to companion for barbecues, fishing trips and Fourth of July firework shows. It was a true bro. So much so that I’d say anyone without at least five trustworthy lawn chairs is practically showing up to the movie of life five minutes late and without a ticket. It’s only a matter of time until they find themselves without a seat.
The average college dorm room or starter apartment is more comparable to a submarine than a mansion. A young adult’s living quarters can be so cramped that it’s not uncommon for anyone with a power drill and some courage to build an entire second level for seating in their living room just to conserve floor space. But that’s a problem of the past when you’re sitting in lawn chairs though. Watching a movie? Whip out the lawn chairs and comfortably seat as many people as you can cram in the room. Your roommate who gets winded walking up the stairs insists she can totally pull off that spin kick from that one fight scene in the movie after it’s over? Put the lawn chairs back in the corner and let the entertainment continue. With lawn chairs, you can go from improvised theater to completely bare floor space as fast as you can fold them up.
Their space saving capabilities are also a dream when it comes to moving. At the end of spring semester, you’re going to have to take all your stuff home. If that consists of any kind of couches, recliners or rolling office chairs, I hope you’ve mastered the ol’ hook and slide maneuver. With lawn chairs, all you do is fold it up and walk right out the door. You don’t have to be that guy scrounging for a spot in a storage building or begging somebody with a truck to help you move either. You can fit an impressive amount of lawn chairs in the back of a mid-size sedan with a little creativity.
On top of that, the low cost and generally sturdiness means you can do whatever you want with them. You can paint them, assemble two of them into an improvised love seat, replace worn out parts with random found hardware or use one as a ring-side weapon when your arch nemesis makes a run at your championship belt. I once built an 8×8 raft out of plywood and 55 gallon drums and seating was never a problem. In fact, the lawn chairs held up to the water and Texas summer heat better than anything else on the boat.
If you own a lawn chair for no other reason, you should for outdoor activities. Everyone should have at least two lawn chairs in the trunk of his or her car. You never know when something might happen that is just awesome enough to get you to go outside yet not quite awesome enough to warrant standing up the entire time. Like a volleyball tournament or the 105th annual Arkadelphia Marmalade Taste-off. a lawn chair can be the difference between having a fun time and having sore feet and a group of friends who have “gone to get more ice” because they’re tired of that stupid, grumpy look on your face.
Your lawn chairs will be there for you until their dying breath, just like dear Red (who, for those grieving the supposed passing of such a brave hero, was rebuilt in a matter of days and still serves my household as faithfully as the day it was welcomed in). They’re basically the dogs of the dorm room furniture world. If you don’t own one, I question whether you can even call yourself a southerner.
