Clean Clothes, Soiled DignityYesterday, I did laundry for the first time since the Trifecta incident. I don't understand what it is about laundromats, but they seem to encourage bizarre and borderline-criminal behavior.It was Labor Day, so I had hoped everyone else with dirty clothes and no washing machines to call their own would be too busy getting drunk and eating grilled meats to join me at the laundromat. I was wrong. The place was hopping.
Fortunately, I arrived during a lull in activity, so I was able to stake out enough washers and a chair. The chair is really key, because it's awkward to linger in there if you have no place to sit, and I have a paranoia about leaving my clothes unattended. I had a very creepy experience in college related to the theft of one specific pair of underwear, and I don't want it to happen again. Anyway, there are four plastic patio furniture chairs in this facility, one at the far end of the room and three along the window by the front entrance. The far chair is usually occupied by a normal person who also doesn't want to interact with strangers at the laundromat, and the other three chairs are bolted together because obviously it might be tempting to steal one. So, according to the physics of personal space, only two strangers can ever comfortably occupy this row of chairs, because the middle chair serves the sole purpose of being a buffer zone.
Needless to say, I was grateful to see that the entire row of chairs was vacant as I sat down to wait for my clothes. I was finishing up the last few pages of Jon Krakauer's Eiger Dreams when I noticed that a fashionably dressed guy in his late 20s had entered the laundromat. I found it refreshing to see someone in there who didn't look like an extra from My Name Is Earl. He even followed social protocol and took the seat on the other end of the row instead of creepily seating himself directly next to me. So far, so good.
He pulled out a laptop and settled into his seat, and I returned my focus to my reading. Krakauer was scaling the Devil's Thumb in Alaska, and I was right there with him, vicariously exhilarated, when I was rudely jolted back to the laundromat. The entire row of chairs was violently shaking. Too scared to actually turn and look at this guy, I relied on my peripheral vision to figure out what the hell my seatmate was doing.
Out of the corner of my eye, all I could see was a violent fapping motion under his shirt. This went on for at least 30 seconds, during which time my brain frantically searched for the most benign possible explanation for his behavior.
He's shaking fleas out of his shirt? Or body dandruff? He's having a hot flash? A flashback? He has Tourette's? He's masturbating? Oh God, please let it be Tourette's.
He finally stopped, and nobody else in the laundromat seemed to want to look at him anymore, so I am probably better off not knowing the truth.
Seriously. Is it me? Am I just a magnet for these kinds of experiences?
Try posting2012-02-20 12:56:22 by MyThreeCents
Over in the "for sale - wanted" category. This is a global forum.
Also, have you asked all your neighbors if you can borrow their backyard patio furniture?
Check out the "free" category on the main board, comb through it see if anyone is giving away tables or chairs. If you don't mind an ecletic bunch of chairs, I'm sure you could score a few.
And if all else fails with regards to chairs (how many do you need by the way? Could you go get a few plastic ones at Costco or Target or something?) but perhaps just layout some nice blankets/fabric on the ground, make it more like a picinic atmosphere if you have to
You might also like:
Ariel Castro Second Arraignment, Cleveland Suspect To Face Additional Rape .. — Latin Times
When Amanda Berry went into labor her captor did not take the woman to the hospital, but rather forced her to give birth in a small plastic kiddie pool. To make matters worse Castro forced Michelle Knight to deliver Berry's baby.