Chainsaws are Loud.

“Common sense is not so common.” - Francois-Marie Arouet

“I’ve got a plan!” I said.  “Let’s hire someone with a chainsaw on Craigslist!”

 I can still smell the mixture of burnt wood and fabric, see the thick gray smoke wafting in the air, hear the blaring sound of the fire alarm, see the people running into our apartment, willing myself to turn back time and make better decisions.  

Twenty-two years old and fresh out of college, on my own with my first official bill making (and taking) job, I joined my senior college roommate, Kayla. We decided to team up and split the rent in our very first real apartment.  Shopping at the Salvation Army, we found an old worn out, faded pink fabric couch that cost $50 and happened to fit our girly themed apartment perfectly. 

How do we find a truck and get it into our apartment though, we asked the cashier?

The cashier pointed to a guy standing nearby nearby, a five feet nothing and petite guy and said “that’s Raul. He has a truck. He can help you move your couch into your apartment for 20 bucks.”

By pointing and all of us using a combination of Spanglish, Raul and I loaded the couch onto his truck, Kayla ordering us to “be careful” and “not drop it.”  Although she was bigger than me and Raul, there was no way Kayla was going to ruin her nails and I had already accepted that Raul and I would move this heavy, pink sofa into the apartment. 

Arriving at the apartment, Raul and I reached the door - couch in hands -and proceeded through the doorway where the couch immediately got stuck.  A mirror closet sat about three feet away from the door, so we immediately had to turn the couch to an angle. But it was still stuck!

“No mas, said Raul, looking between the couch and the doorway. “No mas,” he repeated. 

“He’s right, this couch isn’t going anywhere,” I replied, looking between Raul and Kayla. “It’s barely too small to get through the door, but maybe we can get it through if we give it enough of a good push?“

Raul seemed to understand and with one good shove, the doorway scratched the couch and landed on the floor inside the living room with a thud. 

We handed the $20 bucks to Raul and once he left, I turned to Kayla.  “How are we ever going to get this couch out of the apartment once we move?”  She shrugged. In my mind, too, I shrugged.  I’d be older and wise then, and future us would figure it out. 

Two years later, we decided to go our separate ways, Kayla to move in with her boyfriend and me to move in with strangers in the expected high cost of living Los Angeles fashion. 

Most things at this point had been moved out and cleaned, and we only had the sofa as the big piece of furniture to move out left - that beautiful ugly pink couch that hosted movie nights and drunken nights and New Year’s Eve parties and many memories - and Kayla and I picked it up. Lamenting how we missed Raul, we lifted the couch and tried to move it outside.  With a wall awkwardly jutting out next to the mirrored closet, we couldn’t even get the couch close to getting out the front door. 

Turning the couch vertically, it hit the ceiling.  We turned it upside down and still it wouldn’t  budge through the door.  Somehow, and I still don’t know how this happened, we were able to back the couch up close to the front door - and cracked the mirrored closet. We pushed the couch back through to the living room and sat down on it to think. 

“I have an idea!” I exclaimed. “Let’s pay someone $20 on Craigslist to come in with a chainsaw and saw it in half!”

Kayla hesitated, then nodded her head in agreement.  “Well, we can’t have anyone come now since it’s almost midnight, but maybe in the morning.”

“I’ll go ahead and post the ad now, though,” I said.  

Two young women looking for someone who owns a chainsaw to cut a couch down in size.  Will pay $20. Call me at xxx-xxx-xxxx. 

Waking up at about 6am, I had 10 replies to my email and called the first one. 

How long until you can come?” I asked forgetting about the early morning.

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he answered.  

He was there in 20, chainsaw in hand, a short, sturdy guy whom we let walk through the door after clarifying that he was “from Craigslist,” as if we couldn’t tell from the chainsaw in his hands.  It was approximately 7am on a Saturday. 

“The couch is over there,” pointed Kayla.  “We just couldn’t get it out the door.”

Craigslist Chainsaw Guy nodded and immediately started the chainsaw, bringing it down on the pink couch. 

Did you know that chainsaws are loud?  And that we had the door to our apartment ajar?  And that we lived in an apartment complex with plenty of neighbors?

The very loud chainsaw sank into the couch and a couple things seemed to happen at once. The couch started smoking, setting off the smoke alarm. A few neighbors rushed over, peering into our apartment, with one guy yelling at the chainsaw guy to turn “that f-cking thing off.”

“Turn off the chainsaw!” Kayla and I pleaded to chainsaw guy. 

He complied, while a neighbor stepped into our apartment to confront chainsaw guy, asking him, “are you out of your f-cking mind?  It’s 7 in the morning?”

“Step back,” said chainsaw guy, holding up the chainsaw in front of him.

“I’m calling the police,” said the neighbor and a very short while later, they arrived. 

The two police officers separated Craigslist Chainsaw Guy and the neighbor outdoors and spent time talking to each one of them. 

“He threatened me,” said Craigslist Chainsaw Guy, still holding his chainsaw and using his chainsaw to point at the neighbor.  

The police officer scratched his head, confused.  “But you’re the one with the chainsaw?  If anything, it could be said that you threatened him.”

Craigslist Chainsaw Guy was reprimanded for using a chainsaw at 7am in an apartment complex on a weekend.  And I stood there, not looking anyone directly in the eyes from embarrassment as neighbors gathered outside, and the police officers decided not to press charges against anyone, told us to keep it down, and left. 

“That guy was being a total douche,” said Craigslist Chainsaw Guy.  “I wish he would’ve come at me.”  Kayla and I made eye contact, willing this morning to be over.  

“Here’s the 20 bucks we promised you,” she said quickly putting the money into his side jean pocket, as it seemed like he never wanted to put down the chainsaw.  “Thanks for your help.”

We practically ran to our door and closed it, not looking back.  

“I’m so sorry Kayla,” I said, tears running down my face.  “It sounded like a good idea.  I am incredibly embarrassed.”  

“Hey, if you don’t mind, since you’ll be leaving earlier than me today, I’ll just tell everyone that it’s your fault this happened if anyone asks,” Kayla replied. 

I nodded, knowing she was right, incredibly glad I would be leaving soon to my new apartment and never having to go back to see my neighbors again. 

“So what are we going to do now?” I asked, as I took the ‘looking for a man with a chainsaw ad’ down from Craigslist.  The couch was still mostly in one piece and still too big to fit through the doorway, some splintered wood now a mess on the ground, smoke still wafting through the air. 

“I know!” exclaimed Kayla.  “I’ve seen their ads before.  1-800-GOT-JUNK!”  Grabbing her phone, she called them up and two people from the company came by within half an hour. 

They tried to move the couch out, but it wouldn’t fit through the door. “I see,” said one of the guys, putting his hand to his chin, thinking.  “You know what?  I have a mallet!  Let me use that!”  He grabbed a mallet from his truck, returned, and used all his strength to smash the couch into multiple pieces.  

“We finally bested this couch,” he said as he pounded away on the couch with the mallet. 

Ten minutes and $230 later, the 1-800-GOT-JUNK heroes moved the sofa pieces from our living room and into their truck. For two women who recently left college and didn’t have much money, it was about $200 more than we expected to spend (and $180 more than we spent on the couch itself) to get it out of our apartment. However it was easily the best embarrassment free money I have ever spent - EVER. 

With the couch finally gone and the rest of my stuff already packed away in my car, I bid my former roommate adieu and apologized once again. 

As I made my way out to my car, my cell rang.  I answered.  “Hello?”

“Hey,” someone on the other end started, “I saw your ad earlier on Craigslist. I have a chainsaw. I could come over, but after noon since chainsaws are loud. I don’t want to disturb your neighbors.”

Where was this guy two hours ago?