Laundromats: confirming their own stereotypes

I ventured out to the first laundromat I could find today (Wash & Dry on Ridge Ave. in Roxborough), and having been a few years removed from laundromatting experiences, it re-confirmed all of the preconceived notions I had about them.

First, no A.C.  Duh. Running all those dryers, it would be fiscally stupid to pay for A/C on top of that.  However, today was one of the hottest Philly days like all summer.  Welcome to autumn, right?

Second, I absolutely cannot sit & read in a laundromat.  Why, I have no idea.  I brought a good hour’s worth of work, but what did I do instead?  Read for 15 minutes at the library (2 blocks away), buy a Christmas record in a thrift store and buy Halloween decorations (okay, AND dryer sheets) in the dollar store.  I was out an hour & a half, but I did 15 minutes worth of homework.  Bad Linda.

Third, impatient parents yelling at their kids.  I don’t really need to elaborate, but this one particular instance made me mock-elbow this bitch in the back of the head (she was short, my elbow was there…damn I wish I had the balls to actually hit people).  She was putting the quarters in the dryer and her presumed son was pressing the button, albeit not fast enough.  Look lady, the dryer’s already going and the kid’s three years old.  Either tell him he can’t do it in the first place, or cut him some slack!  Telling your kid, “I don’t have the patience for this” will ensure he doesn’t wind up with a patience or anger management problem when he’s older, I’m sure.  I’m also certain he’ll be an excellent teenager.  Your daughter was exemplary, by the way, running up and down the length of the laundromat singing “Spiderman” while you periodically told her to stop and she blatantly ignored you.  Parenting at its finest.

Fourth, Phil.  The everyday chat-you-up-at-the-laundromat guy.  Slick to start, by the way, with “how long would you say is good for these dryers?”  The “So, you go to La Salle?” follow-up was pure gold though; excellent attention to detail (the only two words printed on my tank top).  I really hope those were some chick’s pink bicycle shorts though, or “same time next week” will never happen for you, bud.

Fifth, the Quarter Dropper.  It seems every time I’m ever in a laundromat, someone drops twelve quarters and I always scramble to pick up the ones that fell by me.  I don’t know why this is.  Are quarters that elusive?

And lastly, my clothes are dry!  Mostly.  One sock, a pair of pajama pants, and a shirt didn’t make the cut, but everything else did well.  I may have even shrunk a few things.  Oops.


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