The sound of bloody murder

I do, in fact, sleep in that.
 (another note: I 'm massively impressed with my Lady Gaga the more I'm looking at it)

My dad snores.  If you were to youtube "loud snoring" - like I just did - you would hear various people snoring very loud, but in comparison to my dad, they sound like they're whispering.  I wear earplugs to bed every night by default, but even still, through a closed door and through earplugs, I somehow still hear him.  The sound of snoring is honestly the worst sound in the world.  It frustrates me, and - this is very true - the sound of my dad snoring makes me nauseous (I can't quite explain it).

Naturally, traveling with the family is a living hell.  The thought of being trapped in the same room with him snoring at night gives me chills.  If I'm lucky, my parents get two rooms.  That's been a decision that's come about recently.  We can only get two rooms in tropical places since resorts have some policies where more than two adults (I count as an adult.  I think my sister is old enough to count too) can't stay in the same room.  Other places - like New York, which you'll hear about - there's no such luck, and we're all in the same room.  I have to share a bed with my sister.  Like, ew!

It all started one year when I went with the family to my sister's out of town baseball tournament.  It was late one night - probably past midnight - when everyone turned in.  My dad fell asleep instantly and started snoring only minutes after.  I hadn't had the chance to fall asleep.  My sister and I took turns getting up and walking over to his bed to hit him, wake him, and yell "you're snoring!"  He grumbles and turns over only to start snoring again after a few minutes.  Needless to say, his snoring got so bad and it got so late (I think it was around 3am) that my sister and I slept on the floor beside the air conditioner so the noise of his snoring was drowned out.

The worst night of my life, though, was our last night in New York City.  Alright, yes, I'm a very dramatic person, but I'm not exaggerating when I say it truly was the worst night of my life.  Similarly, don't be shocked at the measures I took.


It was a long day.  I think that was the day we saw Ground Zero and rode on the ferry to see the Statue of Liberty.  As with every day in New York we found a neat little restaurant in somewhere like Little Italy and we spent the night eating like mad; we'd get back to our hotel (very close to Times Square) after wandering around in Times Square for a while; and once our parents (we traveled with another family - my parents' friends and their daughter, my sister's good friend) locked us away in our rooms, they'd go back out to find a bar or something.  That night, I distinctly remember my sister, her friend and I watched Grease on TV until my sister's friend went back to her room and my sister and I decided we'd get to bed early so that we'd be sound asleep by the time my dad got back.  He seems to snore loudest when he's tired or when he's been drinking - so, every night.  Vacations make it worse.

It did work.  I fell asleep.  (apparently so did my sister, since I was solo for the rest of my night of hell)

I was awoken by my dad's snoring at around 1am.  I don't know when they got back.  I put my earplugs in, to no avail.  My next step was to pile my pillows on top of my head - again, to no avail.  I started to press down on the pillows on top of my ear in effort to make some sort of soundproof clamp.  No dice.  Getting more and more frustrated, I got up to stir him.  By the time I made it back to my bed he was snoring again.

I was so exhausted, and all I wanted to do was sleep (never get in the way of an exhausted Matt needing sleep, I say).  The sound of his snoring that night was making me furious.  I swore at him under my breath over and over again.  I lived in a fantasy where I woke him up with a loud electric guitar.  I decided my anger wasn't getting me anywhere, so I went to the washroom to regroup.  The washroom was considerably quieter - I could still hear him, but it seemed like it was off in the distance.  I collected myself and decided on my next step.

Before getting back to my bed I hit him again, buying me a moment's time of silence.  I prayed to god that I'd fall asleep instantly out of exhaustion, but nothing happened.  Time to put my plan in motion.  I grabbed my ipod and blasted The Fame Monster.  I can't fall asleep to music.  It only makes me more attentive; I pay attention to the lyrics.  Bad RomSNOREance.  AlSNOREejandro.  MonSNOREter.  Speechless (I fucking love the song Speechless.  It brought me silence).  Dance iSNOREn the Dark.  TelephSNOREone.  So Happy I Could SNORE Die.  (I skipped Teeth) No result.  Onto The Fame.

After listening to music for a good two hours I was all the more furious.  To be honest, I could've cried, I was so angry.  I was beyond exhausted at that point.  I looked at the clock and read some obscene number, which spurred me to my most drastic motion to date.

My sister and I were using two blankets.  I snatched mine along with my pillow.  I made it to the washroom.  I slammed the door behind me hoping that the sound would wake my dad up to buy me more time.  I crammed towels into the crack beneath the door, making the washroom as soundproof as possible.  I made a bed in the bathtub.  And I slept.  It was the most glorious moment of my life, falling to sleep in that New York bathtub, surrounded by my makeshift nest.  That was at 4am.

I was brought to consciousness some time later.  "GET TO YOUR BED!" my mom screamed at me from the doorway, flinging the light on and blinding me.  Turns out she needed to use the washroom and I startled her (I guess that would be a startling image to find.  It is, after all, one of my greatest fears.  A something in a bathtub).  I pleaded with her to let me return to sleep in my tub bed, but she had none of it.

I walked back to my bed, defeated, and didn't sleep.  I stayed awake until my dad woke up around 8am, completely revitalized by his good night sleep.  "How'd you sleep?" he asked me.  The oblivious ass.


The thing is, I know he isn't snoring on his own accord.  It's a problem, though; and I HATE him for not doing anything about it.  My mom rarely sleeps at night.  I can't imagine what it'd be like trying to sleep every night beside the human vacuum cleaner.  When I bring it up to him, he doesn't listen.  When I bring it up to my mom, she defends him, saying "well it isn't his fault!"  Yeah, I get that, mother.

For his birthday this year, I'm getting him one free ride in the car.  I'm driving him straight to the sleep clinic.