Let's take a walk down memory lane, shall we? Let me dazzle you with my tales of being a laundromat menace.
The first tale is a story of it's own that must be told at a later time. It's called, "8 Quarters". It's a story of revolution at the Suds on 8th laudromat in Brooklyn, NY. Since I only have the time it takes to dry my clothes, you'll have to enjoy my San Francisco laundry stories.
Laundry Tale 1: How I flooded the laundromat
A couple years ago, I was doing my laundry, just minding my own business when tragedy struck. You see, I was new to this laundromat since the one closer to my house closed and became a bank/gym. So, it was only my second or third visit. I dutifully placed my clothes int he washer, closed the door, dumped in my laundry detergent, and sunk a few quarters into the machine. Everything was going swimmingly until I noticed soapy water leaking out of the washer. That leak became a waterfall in no time, and I had no choice but to disturb the laundry lady. She came out and was none too pleased with me. Apparently I was negligent and a sock got stuck in the door. Whoops. I kept pacing around offering to help and apologizing, but she wanted none of it. She put a bucket next to the machine and told me to go away. So, I did. I took that time to get some food down the street. When I returned, the water was mopped up and my clothes were clean...and the laundry lady wasn't smiling. In fact, she hasn't smiled at me since.
Laundry Tale 2: Clumsy
This story is best told in person because there is quite a bit of physical comedy involved, so we'll see how well it translates to the written word. One day I was heading over to the laundromat with my grandma cart, and everything was going just fine. Well, everything except that I was wearing my oddly restrictive jeans (from this point forth, they will be known as "ORJ"). I don't know what it is about ORJ, but they limit my range of motion for no reason in particular (and yes, they are the correct size). So, I was walking down the street, pushing my cart ahead of me when I got to the intersection in front of the laundromat. Being that it was 5 o'clock on a Tuesday, there was a wee bit of traffic on the street. I started into the crosswalk feeling good about the world, when tragedy struck. The front wheel of my cart got caught in a pothole or train track (I've never deteremined which) and started falling forward. Unable to stop my momentum, I started falling with it in slow motion. I swear it took 45 seconds for me to hit the ground. Now, when I say hit the ground, I mean that the grandma cart hit the ground and I fell on top of it. So, there I was, in the middle of the crosswalk, surrounded by cars, laying on top of my cart. Being that I was wearing ORJ and was in an odd position, I was unable to just move my leg forward and stand up. No. Instead, I had to roll off of the cart and tumble onto the street. Then, I was able to stand up. It's never embarrassing to land like a cockroach in the middle of the street. Ever.
Laundry Tale 3: Sudsy Jazz Hands
A few months ago, I had to do my laundry before a trip. In true form, I waited until the very last minute, so I got to the laundromat two hours before it closed. Lucky for me, there was a TV. Once I started my laundry, I decided to turn on the TV and watch it. Everything was going just fine. I got in some Top Model, and then the TV stopped working. I had nothing to do but wait. In my boredom, I started singing to myself and dancing. I attempted the Charleston complete with jazz hands and pushed myself through the aisle in one of the laundry carts. After doing this for a solid 15 minutes, I noticed that I was dancing directly in front of the security camera. Horrified and embarrassed (since I am persona non grata at the laundromat), I immediiately stopped mid-dance. Two minutes later I started up again. It was already recorded, after all (assuming there's actually tape in there).
And those are my tales of being a laundry menace. Now that I've written them, I think they are best told as a one-woman-show. So, until I get that up and running, don't expect to read them again anytime soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment