Surf’s Up

My brother, the oldest of our four-kid-clan, informed me that he would have a band of gypsies crashing on his couch tonight.


They are a literal band that plays gypsy music, and they found my trendy brother on some couch-surfing website. Out of all of the surfers in Athens, they picked him to be their victim host.

I’ve never actually participated in couch-surfing although I know several people who have (including obviously my bro). But the whole idea of spending the night in a complete stranger’s house in a completely new city kind of weirds me out.

It just seems too much like real-world Hansel and Gretal. You and your friend find a random stranger with an appetizing couch. Maybe the host really is nice and genuinely wants randos sleeping on his couches — just like that sneaky witch really wanted Hansel and Gretal to eat her house…


I can assure you that my brother is no witch. His house isn’t made of sweets. And I’m pretty sure he’s never tried to fatten anyone up and throw them in an oven.

But I mean really, Jacob…gypsies?! Even if they are faux “trust-fund-gypsies” from Portland, it seems to me that you’re just begging for trouble. Bread crumbs and all.