John B. Marek is a storyteller with dirt under his nails who weaves tales inspired by a lifetime immersed in nature. His insightful essays and award-winning fiction delve into the complexities of sustainable living, the heart of rural communities and the thrill of outdoor adventure. You can find more of his writing at johnbmarek.com.
When my wife and I set up our first apartment in 1986 we had to make some budgetary concessions. Our living room was furnished with one of those “ALL SIX PIECES ONLY $199” specials from the discount store, our dining room table was a hilariously poor-quality glass-and-brass atrocity and our bedroom featured the cheapest waterbed we could find. Surprisingly, we got a few years of service from the living room set and dining room table, but the waterbed was another story.
Waterbeds were invented in 1968 by Charles Hall, a student from California. He created the waterbed for a school project to design a better mattress. Waterbeds gained immense popularity in the 1970s and 1980s, with over 1 million units sold annually at their peak in the late 1980s.
The popularity of waterbeds can be attributed to several factors. They provided a unique floating sensation and were promoted as offering better spinal alignment and pressure relief. Waterbeds also featured temperature control with built-in heating systems. Their novelty, association with the counterculture movement and relatively affordable price – low-end units were significantly less expensive than traditional mattresses, box springs and frames – further boosted their appeal.
However, waterbeds fell out of favor in the 1990s, primarily for reasons that mirror my own brief experience with one. The first surprise came even before delivery: Our apartment required waterbed owners to carry special renter’s insurance to cover potential damages from leaks. While it wasn’t costly, maybe $50 per year, it was an unexpected strain on our tight budget.
Once the bed was delivered we began setting it up. The frame was constructed from 2x8s and plywood and some assembly was required, to say the least. Filling the mattress from the bathroom tap took an unexpectedly long time, but that was nothing compared to how long it took for the water to reach a comfortable temperature via the heater, which was placed under the mattress before filling and looked like a heat pad used by gardeners to start plants in the winter.
We ended up sleeping on the sofa and loveseat for the first couple of nights, which turned out to be a foreshadowing of what was to come. I never slept well on that waterbed; every slight motion created rolling breakers. One night I got up to use the bathroom and returned several minutes later to find my wife still bobbing like a buoy in the waves. The tiny heater struggled with even the slightest ambient temperature variations, so the sleeping surface always felt clammy. After a month of restless nights I retreated to the sofa for some sleep. It was not a great newlywed experience. A few weeks later we replaced the waterbed with a traditional mattress. Of course, emptying the mattress was just as exciting as filling it had been.
Among the many regrettable purchases I’ve made throughout my life, the waterbed stands out as one of the most questionable decisions, right alongside my ill-fated adventures with The Little House on the Highway and my lemony Eagle Vision. That waterbed, symbolic of modern comfort and trendy living, seemed like a great idea at the time. I envisioned relaxing nights floating on waves of plush luxury, but what I got was a nightly battle against an unpredictable tidal pool. In hindsight, it stands as a lesson learned – the kind of experience that shapes us, making for humorous memories and perhaps a bit of wisdom along the way.