There’s something so undeniably delicious about sleeping when you’re not supposed to be. You know the expression “hurt so good?” That’s how I felt when I used to fall asleep in high school during Spanish class. I’d nod off to my teacher’s terrible Brooklyn infused Spanish accent, knowing that what I was doing was wrong but did it anyway because it felt that good. Before submitting myself to a deep slumber I’d jerk myself awake when I realized my head was beginning to fall and I was going in and out of consciousness, until I ultimately, and inevitably, succumbed to shutting my eyes and blissfully entering a deep REM sleep.

Desks feel just as comfortable to me as a temperpedic mattress when I doze off in class. When I was eight years old my family and I traveled to England for a week. My mom dragged my three brothers and me to a museum right after dropping our luggage off at the hotel so that we wouldn’t lose any precious time due to jet-lag. We once made the mistake of staying in an apartment we rented in Israel when we arrived and ended up sleeping for a full 24 hours. So, little eight year old me was forced to go to a museum that I had no interest in seeing. I was tired, I was whiney and I didn’t have the intellectual will or capability to appreciate the exhibit; so I marched myself to the end of it and fell asleep next to the “Exit only, no reentrance” sign. It was totally inappropriate and I felt badly that my mom wasted money on a ticket for me, which made my nap that much better. It’s like a rush of adrenaline that makes you fall asleep when you take naps on the edge. The fear of getting caught sleeping by your mom, or your teacher, or even someone who works at a museum in England, at any given moment when you’re supposed to be awake undeniably enhances the sleeping experience.

I recently went to see Entourage with my friend. I don’t watch the show but I heard that you don’t need to have seen it to understand the plot, so I was excited to finally see for myself why everyone loves that Ari Gold character. A few weeks prior to going to the movie I had lunch at a restaurant that Jeremy Piven walked into. It sucks when you finally have a run in with a celebrity who you don’t care about, so I was hoping that seeing the movie would turn me into a fan. After buying my pricey ticket (remember when movies cost just a nickel? Or a quarter? My parents never actually said that to me so I don’t know how much movies used to cost) I chose not to spend another five dollars on a cup of coke because that’s ridiculous and I could sip on my friend’s root beer.

I was alert during the movie up until it actually started. The trailers were all so good that as usual I wished I was watching one of them instead of the movie I had actually gone to see. When the last trailer ended my eyes began to close. “Oh no” I thought, “not now.” I felt like the Hulk, except instead of transforming into a big green monster my body was forcing itself to shut down. “But I paid for this movie!” I pleaded to myself, “and I heard it was really funny!” My effort to stay awake failed and I immediately fell asleep. A second later I woke up with drool on my chin and a flashback to right before I fell asleep. Again, I felt like the Hulk with no recollection of the past 20 minutes. “God damnit.” I sipped on my friend’s root beer to help me stay awake but all it did was quench my cotton mouth (I later found out that root beer does not in fact have caffeine in it). The rest of the movie was a blurry haze. I would wake up to someone having sex on screen and doze off again before I could catch any other pivotal plot moments. I fought with myself to stay awake, but in the end I couldn’t do it. Sleep won the battle and the war and I lost $12, but at least I got to see Kevin Connolly naked.