Last week Ryan told me he was moving. "Totally awesome new place on the beach man! I am so pumped!" As a friend this is one if the last things you want to hear because an important question immediately follows up with that statement. The dreaded "Hey are you free this weekend?" Which translates to "Dude, please help me, I would do it for you...Come on! I'll buy you lunch! Just help me lift this fucking couch!" I let him plead his case, asked what actually has to be moved and where. Turns out we weren't going far, he didn't have that much, and beer was guaranteed.

I arrived to his house on a hot, sunny Sunday afternoon. We were only moving him about a half a mile away. The biggest thing is his futon, no big deal. I figured he would have some sort of truck to get everything moved in one swoop. Wrong again, as I tend to be. My friend Ry drives a yellow Lotus convertible with trunk space the size of a shoe box. What the hell are we going to fit in that?

This is Ry...and the vehicle he thought would be good for moving...he is brilliant...at least he had beer...

Ry's car is so small that I, at 6' 2" stature, cannot fully fit into it and my legs do not fully stretch out in either of the seats. "How the hell are we supposed to move this crap when I can barely fit in this car." I ask. Ry is not the best critical thinker and he shrugged at this question. What else could we do?...We had a beer while we tried to figure this out. We knew we were going to have to get the futon moved and were stumped on how we were going to do it. Our friend Jeff stopped by while we were thinking of solutions for this problem. "Why don't you guys just water-taxi the futon over?" Jeff said. All of our eyes lit up. Ry lives on the Venice canals in LA and has 2 canoes... best idea ever right? We all ran to the canals to size up the canoes. A collective "This has to work" conversation broke out and we excitedly got on our way to execute our plans.

With a quick buzz and a new sense of accomplishment we decided we had to make one trip before our water adventure. The first trek we thought we would put as much in the trunk "space" as possible, sit me in the passenger seat, close the door and then pack more stuff on top of me through the roof. Sounds good right? Now that we were packed we set sail for a 2 minute drive around the corner to get his stuff moved to his new beach front house.

We both forgot it was St. Patricks Day weekend and it took us an hour to go less than 6 blocks...gotta love LA...all while it was 90 degrees out...with suitcases crushing me...and Rys gas light was on from the moment we left. To break down now would be poetic.

Finally arriving at Ry's new place we unpacked and I met Ry's roommate Scuba Steve. Turns out Steve is a photographer and when we told him about our plan to water-taxi a futon on 2 small canoes he wanted to document the whole thing.

Determination. stevenjayphoto.com...really rad stuff

We decided the car was now worthless and left it at Ry's new place. It only took us 6 minutes to walk back. "We should have just walked. " We both agreed. We quickly got the futon out back to the boats, tied it securely with guitar quarter inch cable (true band guys...it's all we had), and set sail to victory.

"I can't believe how well this is working!" We kept yelling at each other paddling and taking chugs from our Pabst pounders we secured at the corner Asian market before our voyage. Everyone walking the canals clapped, cheered us on and Steve snapped photos. "It's to crowded to take the roads! We're taking to the sea!" Ry would yell to a passerby and slug his beer. "Yeah! It's moving day!" I would yell after him choking on a swig. At the end of our trek we still had to get the futon out of the canoes and carry it 2 more blocks...and we did so with passion and fury....mainly fueled by the beer.

I still ill don't know where my shoes are but that is neither here nor there. Tales like this are what true friendship is all about. Ry is now happily moved in and loving his new location. We spent the rest of the night walking the beach, eating mexican food and drinking champagne. Not too bad. I think there is two morals to this story. First you can make any task, no matter how shitty it is...like helping your friend move, and make it an adventure. Secondly, when your friend asks him to help you move make sure he has beer.

YourFriendMatt