My quest to find the perfect pillow took me to a mysterious warehouse last week that appears and disappears in the night along with the hundreds of people who guard its secret, but steal its treasures.
I have written before about my search to find the perfect pillow and the dozens of pillows I have purchased only to eventually be disappointed with my new stuffed friends. Since I wrote that column, I discovered a pillow, which I purchased after watching a late night infomercial, called My Pillow. It looks like a very ordinary pillow, but the one I bought has, so far, been the closest thing I could find to the perfect pillow.
Im looking for a pillow that is both soft and firm at the same time, and it would be nice if it improved my memory. Yes, I have purchased several memory-foam pillows, but none of them have measured up, I cant remember exactly why.
This summer, I discovered a Utah-based company called Malouf that makes really nice-looking stuff for beds, like sheets, mattress toppers and all sorts of pillows. Their pillows look very cool. They were clearly made in the future and brought back to our time. Some of them have scientifically designed holes in them and they have ingredients with names from the future like shredded gel dough.
I heard that this company has a very short, late night sale once a year, and I just happened to call them about it the day before the sale was to happen. You have to get a ticket to attend this sale.
Getting the ticket is only the first test you must pass to experience this event. The giant new warehouse where this sale is located is in a sort of Cache Valley Bermuda Triangle that confuses GPS gizmos. Thankfully, all living things and all mysterious warehouses are required by Google to register, so after driving about in darkness for a long time, I turned to Google Maps and found it.
This sale was in a mostly empty warehouse and it was packed with about 800 people by the time I arrived. Linens, mattresses and pillows are sectioned off behind plastic ribbons like a giant crime scene. When the tape was dropped, I was swallowed up in a rush of fellow pillow lovers. The first pillow I saw looked like a $300 pillow I had discovered online that was on sale on Amazon for $77. Its sale price that night was $20. Other expensive pillows were for sale for just $5. I quickly grabbed two pillows and was about to leave when I noticed that there were lots of things besides pillows for sale.
People we throwing things in large boxes nearly too big to fit in the back of a pickup. I got caught up in the excitement. In the context of that rush, I would have probably snatched up punch bowls, fondue sets, or a senator if one had been standing around. I knew the pillows were a good deal and I would have assumed an elected representative would have been a bargain. This must be what people in Black Friday rushes feel like. I think if I had just stopped to ponder the deals someone would have probably knocked me down and taken my coat and shoes. I sort of forgot that we were poor and bought some things we probably didnt need like expensive sheets made of bamboo. (Something that we cant make now, but they obviously can make in the future.)
On the way home, I wondered how I would justify this spending to my wife who thinks that one pillow per person should be the norm and that I should not be allowed to use a credit card. I stopped to use my credit card to buy pizza and I phoned her. Much to my surprise, she told me to go back. She wanted me to buy a mattress topper for my daughter because Sara is pregnant and sleeps on an old hard mattress, which apparently is not a good thing for pregnant people.
This is where this story gets really weird, but it is true. After the call, my phone died, having been taxed severely in the Nibley Bermuda Triangle. However, I fearlessly set off into the night anyway to find the warehouse again by gut instinct just like the pioneers used to do. That shouldnt have been a problem because I had just been there, right? Wrong. Not only was the sale not there, but the building was gone. The people were gone.
The building had been located in Nibley, a wild place in Cache Valley that is so remote and rural that it doesnt even have a Wal-Mart, but I have never heard of buildings there just vanishing.
I drove back and forth in the night, knowing my wife would not believe the disappearing warehouse story and would just accuse me of getting lost again. I theorized this was some kind of building from the future that only the pure in heart can see. (And yes, I did wonder how I had seen it in the first place.) I eventually gave up and went home, knowing that the pressure would be on to give the mattress topper that I had bought for us to my daughter because thats what you do for pregnant people.
The next day, I emailed the company to see if it would fess up and tell the truth about the strange warehouse. A nice man who had been at the sale the whole time claimed that he had not once vanished and said the building was still there. Its a new building Malouf has constructed that will eventually be the company headquarters and will include a showroom, according to its website. The man clearly was reluctant to admit that it sometimes vanishes, and I can understand that.
He said that for one hour that afternoon, he would be at the warehouse and would let me in to buy a topper for my daughter. Im guessing that pregnant people from the future also need mattress toppers. We got one for Sara and a fancy memory-foam bed for our dogs, who seem to be quite forgetful. I also bought three more pillows for me, one of which not only had the cool future holes in it, but dual zones.
Did this adventure produce the perfect pillow for me? Im not sure yet. Two of the five pillows are quite impressive and may replace my old number one pillows spot of honor. One of those in contention for this honor is a king-sized memory-foam pillow, with no future holes, that only cost $5.
I had never seen king-sized pillows like the ones I bought that night. They are way bigger than the giant puffy ones they give you in fancy hotels. They seem to be as long as a car is wide and very comfy. (My wife doesnt like them that much just because they tend to want to lay across her face and, I suppose, shes right that technically she becomes a pillow sandwich each night.)
Like most people, I have always had a relatively large pile of pillows stacked next to our bed. These king-sized pillows make the stack much more impressive and a little dangerous if they tip over. I think my wife, who didnt believe the disappearing warehouse story at first, might believe it now, however, because she keeps telling me that it is time for all my pillows, except one, to disappear. If I didnt have pillows from a vanishing warehouse from the future, that would be impossible, right?
I should probably buy a few more pillows as a backup supply just in case shes right. If you see me standing in an empty field in Nibley, know that Im not crazy. Im just waiting for the warehouse from the future to return again.
I have written before about my search to find the perfect pillow and the dozens of pillows I have purchased only to eventually be disappointed with my new stuffed friends. Since I wrote that column, I discovered a pillow, which I purchased after watching a late night infomercial, called My Pillow. It looks like a very ordinary pillow, but the one I bought has, so far, been the closest thing I could find to the perfect pillow.
Im looking for a pillow that is both soft and firm at the same time, and it would be nice if it improved my memory. Yes, I have purchased several memory-foam pillows, but none of them have measured up, I cant remember exactly why.
This summer, I discovered a Utah-based company called Malouf that makes really nice-looking stuff for beds, like sheets, mattress toppers and all sorts of pillows. Their pillows look very cool. They were clearly made in the future and brought back to our time. Some of them have scientifically designed holes in them and they have ingredients with names from the future like shredded gel dough.
I heard that this company has a very short, late night sale once a year, and I just happened to call them about it the day before the sale was to happen. You have to get a ticket to attend this sale.
Getting the ticket is only the first test you must pass to experience this event. The giant new warehouse where this sale is located is in a sort of Cache Valley Bermuda Triangle that confuses GPS gizmos. Thankfully, all living things and all mysterious warehouses are required by Google to register, so after driving about in darkness for a long time, I turned to Google Maps and found it.
This sale was in a mostly empty warehouse and it was packed with about 800 people by the time I arrived. Linens, mattresses and pillows are sectioned off behind plastic ribbons like a giant crime scene. When the tape was dropped, I was swallowed up in a rush of fellow pillow lovers. The first pillow I saw looked like a $300 pillow I had discovered online that was on sale on Amazon for $77. Its sale price that night was $20. Other expensive pillows were for sale for just $5. I quickly grabbed two pillows and was about to leave when I noticed that there were lots of things besides pillows for sale.
People we throwing things in large boxes nearly too big to fit in the back of a pickup. I got caught up in the excitement. In the context of that rush, I would have probably snatched up punch bowls, fondue sets, or a senator if one had been standing around. I knew the pillows were a good deal and I would have assumed an elected representative would have been a bargain. This must be what people in Black Friday rushes feel like. I think if I had just stopped to ponder the deals someone would have probably knocked me down and taken my coat and shoes. I sort of forgot that we were poor and bought some things we probably didnt need like expensive sheets made of bamboo. (Something that we cant make now, but they obviously can make in the future.)
On the way home, I wondered how I would justify this spending to my wife who thinks that one pillow per person should be the norm and that I should not be allowed to use a credit card. I stopped to use my credit card to buy pizza and I phoned her. Much to my surprise, she told me to go back. She wanted me to buy a mattress topper for my daughter because Sara is pregnant and sleeps on an old hard mattress, which apparently is not a good thing for pregnant people.
This is where this story gets really weird, but it is true. After the call, my phone died, having been taxed severely in the Nibley Bermuda Triangle. However, I fearlessly set off into the night anyway to find the warehouse again by gut instinct just like the pioneers used to do. That shouldnt have been a problem because I had just been there, right? Wrong. Not only was the sale not there, but the building was gone. The people were gone.
The building had been located in Nibley, a wild place in Cache Valley that is so remote and rural that it doesnt even have a Wal-Mart, but I have never heard of buildings there just vanishing.
I drove back and forth in the night, knowing my wife would not believe the disappearing warehouse story and would just accuse me of getting lost again. I theorized this was some kind of building from the future that only the pure in heart can see. (And yes, I did wonder how I had seen it in the first place.) I eventually gave up and went home, knowing that the pressure would be on to give the mattress topper that I had bought for us to my daughter because thats what you do for pregnant people.
The next day, I emailed the company to see if it would fess up and tell the truth about the strange warehouse. A nice man who had been at the sale the whole time claimed that he had not once vanished and said the building was still there. Its a new building Malouf has constructed that will eventually be the company headquarters and will include a showroom, according to its website. The man clearly was reluctant to admit that it sometimes vanishes, and I can understand that.
He said that for one hour that afternoon, he would be at the warehouse and would let me in to buy a topper for my daughter. Im guessing that pregnant people from the future also need mattress toppers. We got one for Sara and a fancy memory-foam bed for our dogs, who seem to be quite forgetful. I also bought three more pillows for me, one of which not only had the cool future holes in it, but dual zones.
Did this adventure produce the perfect pillow for me? Im not sure yet. Two of the five pillows are quite impressive and may replace my old number one pillows spot of honor. One of those in contention for this honor is a king-sized memory-foam pillow, with no future holes, that only cost $5.
I had never seen king-sized pillows like the ones I bought that night. They are way bigger than the giant puffy ones they give you in fancy hotels. They seem to be as long as a car is wide and very comfy. (My wife doesnt like them that much just because they tend to want to lay across her face and, I suppose, shes right that technically she becomes a pillow sandwich each night.)
Like most people, I have always had a relatively large pile of pillows stacked next to our bed. These king-sized pillows make the stack much more impressive and a little dangerous if they tip over. I think my wife, who didnt believe the disappearing warehouse story at first, might believe it now, however, because she keeps telling me that it is time for all my pillows, except one, to disappear. If I didnt have pillows from a vanishing warehouse from the future, that would be impossible, right?
I should probably buy a few more pillows as a backup supply just in case shes right. If you see me standing in an empty field in Nibley, know that Im not crazy. Im just waiting for the warehouse from the future to return again.
