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*Originally posted by Billy Rubin *
**I’m pretty sure I have been to the laundromat in question, I think, and if it is the one I’m thinking about, Broomstick may have left out a salient piece of information: The floors are so filthy if you allow a single article of clothing to hit the floor it makes you want to burn the whole load. I’m sure there are enough roach eggs under the edges of the machines to repopulate all the planets within a 300 light year radius in seconds.
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Naw… that was the laudromat I used when I lived in Chicago in East Edgewater…the mice and rats carried switchblades and fist-fights were a regular feature.
We’ll have to compare off-line - for all the faults of my current 'mat, I’ve yet to see bugs. In the winter the floor can get nasty from wet boots tracking slush in, but the attendants at least try to keep up.
What a timely topic. I just spent four hours in hell at the laundromat this morning. Typically, I just drop my laundry off in a big laundry bag and pick it up a day later—I’m spoiled rotten that way. But since I’ve been laid off and I’m trying to conserve money, I did it myself. I had also accumulated about eight loads—not that I don’t take my laundry often, but I tend to wear the same things, so the same things get taken to the laundromat every week. There’s a laundromat every few blocks where I live, but I’ve gone to the same one for three years. So I went this morning, shoved in a couple of loads (it was amazingly crowded, too), and then started running back and forth from my apartment—after those first two loads went in, I was slammed with laundry. But I was amazed at the people who thought that it was a daycare. I had two little boys (both under three) who kept knocking into me. I nearly smacked on in the head with a giant dryer door and his mother had the audacity to look at me like I was doing something wrong. Never mind the people who started taking my laundry out of the washer ten seconds after it finished when there were several other washers open.
I’m so glad I got all of my laundry finished today. The rest of it will be getting dropped off from now on.
They must not teach you much at BU. One of the first things I learned in college was that the whole separating darks and lights concept is a load of hooey. Since then my laundry life has become much easier.
Worst I’ve had to deal with was the little brat last week who thought the quarters coming out of the change machine I was using were a big game for him to play. He ran up and grabbed all of my quarters, then dropped half of them on the floor, while I pried the other half from his clenched fist. All while he was laughing madly. All this while daddy dearest was reading a magazine about 5 feet away, only looking up briefly to glare at ME. Astounding.
At ISU I could get all my clothes into two loads. They were full loads, but that meant I only had to do laundry about once every two weeks. I don’t have any horror stories, but then I did my laundry in the dorm in the middle of the night, when the building was locked.
The machines were controlled by a slightly wonky computer debit card type system, that read one stripe off the student I.D. Sometimes it wouldn’t let you pay for one of the machines, sometimes it’d put the money on the wrong machine. The neat thing was that it was just one stripe, and that it wasn’t hooked to a computer network. That meant that it would be possible to duplicate the money on cards using nothing more than a reconfigured tape deck. I never did, but if I was still there now and running out of money, those washing machines and vending machines would start to look more appealing.
“Restricted to Persons 18 Years of Age or Older” said the sign on the laundromat in Moosonee (a northern Ontario town at the railhead on Hudson’s Bay). This was in the days before video, and no, there was not a nudie bar attached. Just everyday folks going in, taking off all their clothes except for their undies, and washing those clothes.
A few years later I was at a laundromat in Toronto (a large city at the other end of Ontario) near Spadina and Dupont. Some folks came in, took off all their clothes except for their undies, and started washing those clothes. I went up and asked if they were from Moosonee. Yes, they replied, they were.
The laundromat I used in London, Ontario, had a nice expresso and sandwich bar, pool tables, and videos. Whoever owned it must have realized that people using laundromats have time on their hands and coins in their pockets.
Damn straight. Our laundrymat posts signs saying folks are responsible to supervise their kids and are liable for any damage to the laundrymat’s or customers’ belongings.
Should she put the jeans in with the whites? No. Could she put three pairs of approximately the same color blue jeans together in one washer. I fuckin’ think so. I separate my whites and colors, I’m not a congenital idiot, but I see no reason why three pairs of the same thing of almost exactly the same color can’t be washed together, asshole.
White Lightning, I am so sorry sorry sorry that I just snapped at you for no apparent reason. I’ve had a bad day, and I saw the first line of your post ("Must not teach you much at BU’), then cursorily glanced at the rest of your message, and decided you were disagreeing with me about the washer hog. Upon re-reading I see that that is the opposite of true. I completely apologize. Everyone, pretend my last post just never happened.
I didn’t realize that a negative reading of my post was possible, but it definitely was. At any rate don’t worry about it Melandry; sorry about the bad day. It happens to the best of us.
I definitely do agree with you, though. If it had been my laundry, not only would all the jeans have been in together, I would have put the whites in with them too. Heck, I’d even toss in panties and all the other ‘delicates!’
Not that I, uh, wear panties…
Anyway, no hard feelings. Howsabout I spot you a mini box of the cheap stuff next time I bump into you at the 'mat, eh?
I’m sayin’, you know, because she’s a girl. She’d have panties. In her laundry. I don’t wear panties. I’m a dude and stuff.
I don’t have any bad stories about laundries, unfortunately.
However, in one apartment complex where I lived, it was customary that if an unattended load was in the dryer, that it was left on the table folded and/or hung up. Mighty nice of my neighbors, and I got to handle a few racy undies that I wouldn’t have been able to touch otherwise
When I lived in Boston I would have taken any laundromat over the machines in my apartment building. The washers and dryers lived in what can only be described as the prototype for the Silence of the Lambs basement, with twisty corners, exposed stone walls, and the most charming feature, everyone’s trash dumped in a corner because we had no dumpster to put it in. Needless to say there was a major pest problem there, and with all the dark corners in the basement I was never sure exactly what was moving around when my back was turned. I can handle annoyances fine, if I’m not having a bad day, but this was combining the pain-in-the-ass that is laundry day with the terrifying sensation that something is waiting for you in the shadows.
Didjya ever ride in the dryer? It’s the best… 'Course, I only did this at the all-night laundry when there wasn’t a soul around. Wouldn’t want to take up valuable dryer space.
I had a friend who left her laundry in the complex machine a little too long and when she came back, it was strung from the pipes. All over the room. Boy, was she pissed!
I’ve always had this great idea, ever since I used to go to a laundromat myself (I’ve since acquired clothes-washing technology for myself):
Why not open up a laundromat/sports bar?
I mean, really! There you go, you have a bank of machines, a few tables where you can get a bite to eat, and a bar where you can sit back and grab a brew or four. All the while you can watch either the news, sports, shoot some pool, or just chit-chat with someone.
It’d be great. You bring a load of laundry, and get yourself loaded at the same time! There’d always be an attendant around (the barkeep), plenty of people to chit-chat with (the patrons), a decent selection of television to watch if you just wanted to be left alone (including that 36" TV with the hockey game on), no annoying kids (21 and over, only!), some other distractions (pool table/dart boards), and the change machine would never be broken (again, the barkeep).
The name? Suds ‘N’ Buds.
I’m telling ya, I should move on this now. I’ll kindly take donations through the mail.
