Last summer I went to stay at a luxury Airbnb that my friends had rented for a weekend getaway in the mountains. My friends are well known for their pranks. Always have been, always will be. To be honest, I wouldn't want to hang out with anyone else.
When I arrived, they were suspiciously nice to me. Sarah, our resident tech genius, kept offering to "help" me set up my room's smart features. Mike wouldn't stop talking about how he'd once seen a video of an Airbnb bed an app could control. Even quiet Jake, who usually stays out of their schemes, was acting suspicious.
We spent the day hiking and taking selfies, but they kept exchanging these brief looks and smirking. They were being way too sweet, constantly asking if I needed anything. I've known them for a while, enough to suspect something.
I thought to myself: "Watch out, you're definitely their target this time."
During dinner, everyone was laughing way too hard at the lamest jokes. I kept thinking: "These people are having way too much fun. They're obviously planning something." I was on high alert, studying every move, every whispered conversation, every time someone left the room with their phone.
Throughout the evening, little things kept happening. The smart blinds abruptly descended for no reason. The room temperature dropped mysteriously. Even the smart speaker randomly announced "Command not recognized" when nobody was talking. Each time, I caught my friends hiding smirks behind their phones. Were they messing with the house's app, or was I just being paranoid?
When bedtime came around, the entire group insisted on showing me to my room - the "master suite" they called it. Very suspicious. They made a big show of saying goodnight and wishing me sweet dreams.
I locked the door behind me and stood there, checking my phone's battery life. I could hear giggling in the hallway. No doubt they were waiting to see what I'd do.
The room was super high-tech, with those smart home features everywhere. "Great," I thought, "they could probably turn off my lights or blast music through the speakers at 3 AM." I used my phone's flashlight to inspect everything. The smart blinds, the fancy lighting system, the temperature controls - anything they could hack from their phones.
After triple-checking everything, I still didn't trust the king-sized bed sitting there innocently in the corner. It looked too perfect with its mountain of pillows. They likely rigged it somehow - maybe with those remotes that make the mattress bounce or fold up like a taco.
I moved the blankets and pillows to the middle of the room, ensuring a clear view of the door. I created a small nest on the floor, turned off lights, and attempted to settle.
Just as I was settling into my floor nest, I heard a faint creak from the hallway. Then I noticed what looked like a tiny blinking light near the ceiling - was that a security camera? No, just the smoke detector. Every little sound and shadow seemed suspicious. The house's smart thermostat display glowed in the darkness like a watching eye.
Finally, around 3 AM, I let myself relax, feeling pretty smug about outsmarting them. No pranks, no tech tricks. I'd won this round. As I drifted off to sleep, I actually smiled, thinking about how I'd tease them tomorrow about their failed attempt.
Until - CRASH! - something heavy landed right on top of me, and I felt ice-cold liquid splash all over my face. I heard what sounded like an entire tray of dishes shattering.
I started flailing around, trying to escape whatever was crushing me. My hand hit something - someone's face! I pushed back, only to get knocked around before scrambling up and running into the hallway in my pajamas.
I blinked in the bright morning light. All my friends came rushing out of their rooms to find Jake, still in his workout clothes, sprawled out in my blanket nest, covered in protein shake and pieces of granola. He'd tripped over my floor setup while trying to surprise me with breakfast in bed.
Over breakfast (what was left of it), my friends finally confessed. They'd planned to use the smart home system to create a light show at midnight - something about synchronized LED lights and music. "But honestly," Sarah chuckled, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, "this exceeded anything we planned."
"Your floor nest totally saved you from our prank," Mike added, "but not from yourself!"
Looking back, I guess sometimes our attempts to avoid disaster just create a different kind of chaos. It's part of the fun when you have friends like these. Though next time, I might just take my chances with the bed.