ADRIENNE VS. THE LAUNDROMAT

Weird shit happens to me. It's entirely my fault.

If I were a reasonable person, I wouldn't have even been at the laundromat on Sunday. I could have dropped off my laundry like my roommates do.The problem is I always freak out about what a great job the laundry lady (laundress?) does, and I wildly over-tip. I walk into the laundromat a reasonable person, but when the laundress hands me my blue laundry bag, packed to the brim with perfectly-folded clothes that smell like a meadow, I completely lose my shit.

Suddenly I'm Fat Joe, and I need to make it rain.

Just me and Weezy, doing some Laundry.

While the laundry lady deserves every penny I over-tip her, I'm too poor to do it every week. And it's too late to start tipping her less. And anyway, doing laundry isn't hard- why not save a few bucks and just spend a few hours on a Sunday at the laundromat doing it myself?


I've only had my laundry done for me by a professional 4 times in my life. I'm no stranger to laundromats. I've never had a problem doing my laundry at any of them. I guess that's why Sunday threw me off so much.

I set out to do my laundry at around 10 a.m. Almost immediately, I knew it was going to be trouble. As I was walking down the street, I noticed a man maybe 20 feet ahead of me. He was walking quickly, and he had a spring in his step- or maybe it only seemed that way, because only one of his shoes was completely on- his heel was hanging out of the other one. He stopped abruptly. I continued walking, and caught up to him. He turned to me, and gave me a huuuuuuuge smile.

It was a strange smile to see so early in the morning. It wasn't really an I've-got-Folgers-in-my-cup smile. It was more of an I've-just-smoked-a-whole-buncha-crack smile. He started walking quickly again, and my heart sank, because somehow, I knew where he was going.

He walked directly into the laundromat.

I could have turned around at this point, and waited to do my laundry. I could have just sucked it up and paid the extra money to have my laundry done. I could have just gone to the other laundromat on my street.

I did none of those things. When I walked into the laundromat, I noticed him hanging out by the dryers. He must be waiting for his clothes to dry, I figured. That would explain why he wasn't carrying a bag of clothes. Still, it did seem like an oddly reasonable thing for a man who was crazy high at 10 a.m. to be doing.

I put my laundry in one of the machines. The laundromat was playing the Lifetime Movie Network. I sat back on one of the benches, and watched the brave single mother, fighting to avenge the death of her daughter (who died from bullying or something?). I started to hear this weird humming sound. Was it one of the machines? NO! It was the crackhead, still standing in front of the dryers, humming for some reason (presumably because of all the crack).

I decided to focus on the movie. So did the crackhead. He turned to the screen, and started humming as a response to what was going on (when something crazy happened, he'd let out a surprised hmmmm. When something sad happened, he'd let out a sad hmmmm). Imagine how Scooby Doo would sound if he was watching a movie... it was kind of like that.

Zoinks!

He moved onto the bench. Next to me. He began slapping the top of the bench.

I decided to go for a walk.

20 minutes later, I return to the laundromat. The crackhead is gone. Is my story over? NO!

An old woman was standing by the washing machines. She was wearing a button down shirt. I guess the buttons were tricky or something, because she only buttoned the top half of her shirt. Her stomach was hanging out, and on her stomach was a growth of some kind. That's ok. I told myself. Maybe that's her laundry day shirt. I told myself. Maybe that's her only clean shirt, and it's missing some of the bottom buttons. You don't know her life! This is the laundromat. This is no place for judgement.

I walked up to my machine. The woman started mumbling, which sort of freaked me out, but I ignored her and started unloading my clothes into my cart. She stopped mumbling. I continued unloading, until I saw something out of the corner of my eye. The woman was staring directly at me, and slowly walking towards me. 

I crammed my clothes into my cart, and booked it to the dryers. Over by the dryers was an apparently unattended 12 year old boy, just smacking one of the folding tables and laughing. Over and over again. What the fuck??! Did Guillermo Del Toro produce this fucking laundromat???!!!  Why is everything so fucking weird???!! I wondered, hurling my clothes into one of the dryers.

I'm pretty sure this guy was at the Laundromat too.

I ignored the boy. I sat down, and I watched the thrilling conclusion of the Lifetime Original Movie (justice: check! Unlikely romance? Double check!).

Finally, my clothes were clean and dry. I began to fold them, when I noticed the woman with the growth on her stomach, glaring at me... I panicked for a second. Then I realized my laundry cart was blocking the television. I moved the cart and smiled. She smiled back.

I walked out of the laundromat. The 12 year old boy was still smacking the folding table and laughing. 

I didn't see the crackhead again. I hope he eventually finished putting his shoes on.

Laundromat owners do not get paid enough.Them hoes deserve to get rained on.