Gay Club Jet Lag

I’m beefing with the laundry man. 

Whenever I walk in, he glares at me. What did I do wrong? Not to point fingers, but if anyone has the right to be upset, it’s me. He owes me three quarters. But what does he know of honor? He assumes everyone is lying to him. I suppose that’s one way we’re similar. I think I’d respect him if he didn’t owe me money. But in his coffers lie 75 cents that I’ll never get back.

Rick makes me anxious and upset, but I feel good about facing the laundromat right now. This is the last time I’ll have to go down there. I’m moving this week. On August 1st, I’ll be far away from this dump. Rick can find some other naive teenager to extort.

Sometimes I wonder if my grudge is misguided. Sure he thinks I’m an idiot, but if I were trapped in this laundry garage 24/6 (they’re closed on Wednesdays) I’d think everyone was stupid too. Maybe behind those greasy glasses is a wise brain, yearning for a different life. He looks like he’s seen some shit. Perhaps his rough exterior hides a loving husband and caring dad. No, that’s bullshit. I’m sure he’s the kind of parent who “holds onto” his kids’ money and uses it behind their backs. Little Tommy knows Grandpa gave him twenty bucks for his birthday but when he asks Dad for his money he gets a ten and a five. Tommy knows he’s being lied to, and Daddy Rick’s probably using the money on drugs or alcohol or sweet treats he doesn’t intend on sharing.

In a way, it’s admirable, Rick’s business sense. Lie to the customer and make them feel stupid when they catch you. But I know what he owes me. Three quarters that these damn machines ate. I’ll never forget the week they installed these new monstrosities. The sidewalk was littered with old washers, tens of dirty machines that had certainly seen war. Not surprising that Rick would replace them with younger, more expensive models. I guess that’s something else we can see eye to eye on, we both like nice things. But it crosses a line when it comes at my expense– when I know I’m being scammed.

But today, I leave this all behind me. If I play my cards right, this is the last time I’ll have to come in here before I move. So I pack my dirty clothes into the hamper and count the coins in my purse. I need to open my next roll of quarters but I should have enough for this wash. I’ll worry about that later. I just want to start the process and get this over with. I grab my stuff and march down the stairs. Deep breath as I walk into the laundromat. The sun outside beats on my shoulders. At least I can find a safe haven in this crooked institution’s central air. 

Crashhh. The fans blow against my forehead and I can breathe. Again, Rick and I have more in common than I might have thought. If I ran a business, I’d also keep the climate as frigid as possible. Interesting that this store is the same temperature as his heart. Silly me. I shake my head. Here I go again, inventing stories about the man who gives me clean clothes every week. Well no, that’s not true. It’s these unreliable washers that provide that service. I should invest in a rocket launcher so I can explode him and get rid of all this laundromat anxiety.

Relax. It’s going to be okay. I don’t see Rick yet, only the butch Latina lesbian who’s always folding clothes on the front bench. They smile at me and I smile back. Their presence here is a calming one. As I walk further in, I see his wife scribbling on a notepad in her swivel chair. I wonder if Rick’s told her anything about me, the beautiful but annoying neighbor who is onto their schemes.

I look over my right shoulder, then my left. So far, so good. Maybe he’s been run over by a car. If I walk up the avenue I’ll find Rick’s roadkilled remains. But as I slide into the second row of machines, I feel a shiver down my back. The world moves in slow motion as I turn to see Rick, in his apron and broken glasses, glaring at me. What’s his problem? I haven’t even spoken a word to him today. Besides, I’m not sure why he’s angry. He’s not the one who’s out 75 cents. But whatever. I’ll mind my own business here.

First, the tide pods, then my clothes, check nothing’s in the pockets of my jorts… looks good. I load the coins- crap. How did I miss this? I’m down a quarter. Two if I want to extend the wash. Damn it, I knew I should’ve opened the other stack of coins. Now what am I supposed to do? I’m not going to be the asshole who leaves all their junk unattended. But I’m not gonna pack my shit, go back upstairs for the rest of the money, and then down again. Do I talk to Rick? 

If I promise to pay him back immediately will he pitch in? No, he’s never been understanding. When the machines ate my money, he yelled at me, telling me I didn’t know how to use them. He didn’t lend a compassionate ear then, why would he now? The last time this happened he said I should ask him to start the machine if I’m going to keep fucking it up.

You know what, I should go speak to him. There’s a chance he’ll spot me. He owes me seventy-five cents anyway. And if he doesn’t, I’ll just ask him what kind of business he thinks he’s running– a place where you get new machines and upcharge your loyal customers only for these pieces of crap to eat their money. Today’s the day I stand up to him. Usually, I just walk away, but I’m in a tight spot.

Deep breath. I clear my throat. I turn. I hear my heart beat faster and faster- I feel like it’s going to thump out of my chest. Are the lights dimming? Is everything turning red? I’m going to throw up. He’s only a few steps away- I look down. I’m such a coward. But my feet keep moving and I’m about to reach him. Perhaps I will be strong enough. Shit. Is that what I think it is? I bend over– two quarters. Thank god. 

As I rise, I notice that Rick’s watching me. He was probably thinking about snatching these, but I got to them first. And if he accuses me of stealing, I’ll have a good laugh. He’s still looking at me. Should I say something?

“The machine. It’s good?”

Oh. I’m surprised by his lack of aggression. But is it good? I don’t know, Rick. I haven’t tried loading it up yet.

“I haven’t started it yet.”

“Okay.”

He waddles off. I think that’s his and his wife’s favorite word. Before he started this future generational beef, I’d always thank them on my way out. All they could ever muster in response was an unaffected “okay.” Returning a little bit of kindness when it comes your way would be a great way to keep the business alive, no? How hard is it to say, “You’re welcome,” or perhaps a charming “Thank you?” But clearly, they don’t care about nurturing a positive customer experience. Not when their devices have stolen seventy-five cents from me. 

Whatever. I return to the task at hand. Ca-chink. Cold water. Start. Ca-chink. Add an extra three minutes. Thirty minutes for clean clothes. Jesus- Rick’s right behind me again.

“Working?”

I nod. Why’s he on my ass today? Does he know my days with him are numbered? Is he trying to make good so I return and give him more money? No chance in hell, bitch. I walk around him and step out. I return upstairs to crack open my quarters and unload them into my purse. With that, I come back to the laundromat and take a seat on the bench in the rear of the room. I check the timer… twenty-eight minutes left in the wash, which I’ll follow with an hour in the dryer. After that, I never have to be here again. 

Meanwhile, Rick’s sweeping the dungeon. He’s really good at it, actually. He’s picking up so much dust with his firm hands. I wonder how often he cleans though, for there to be that much crap on the floor. Maybe he’s preparing the laundromat for another renovation, new tiles. And then they can charge an entrance fee of $6 just to walk in. What an ass.

I think so poorly of him that sometimes I feel I should apologize. But for what? He doesn’t know what I think about him. He can’t hear my thoughts. Unless? I look up– shit. Maybe he can hear me. Why’s he staring at me again? Okay then, Rick, if you can hear me… give me my 75 cents back. He turns his head. Right. Cheap bitch. I’m not surprised.

Well if he can hear my thoughts, then I hope he grows the balls to apologize. This grudge has turned me into a bitter person, but it’s not my fault. It all started on that day, the first time the machine ate my quarter. Until then, Rick and I had never exchanged words beyond “thank you” and “okay.” Two years of near complete silence broken by an irrational argument where I was in the right.

Picture this- a strapping young man descends from his boiling apartment to do his laundry. He loads the machine with his clothes. These new contraptions have been here for three weeks now. The buttons are the same, the mechanism is the same, and the only difference is a price jump from $1.75 to five bucks. You have to agree, that’s a pretty dramatic increase, right? 

Begrudgingly, this young man inserts the coins. He needs clean underwear. As the machine tumbles into action, the screen offers the following message- “ADD THREE MINUTES, 25 CENTS.” Well, why not? He has a bit of extra change from buying a brownie at the corner store last night. Ca-chink. He slots one in. “THREE MINUTES ADDED. 30 MIN. REMAINING.” Great. There’s a lot of clothes in here- the young man used two tide pods to accommodate them! This should be good.

But then this gentleman gets to thinking- the last time he used two pods, one of them didn’t melt completely. Considering he also uses cold wash to preserve the integrity of his wardrobe, it makes it even harder for the pods to dissolve. Are three minutes enough? He looks at the machine- “ADD THREE MINUTES, 25 CENTS.” Once again- why not?

Ca-chink. He slides one in. Except it doesn’t add any time. Hm. He waits… and waits… He clicks the button that’s supposed to return your coins when they get stuck, but nothing rolls out. He walks over to the owner of the laundromat and asks about this. Explains the situation. Except the owner doesn’t understand. The owner yells at him.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

Girl. It’s 25 cents. Do you really think it’s that deep? What does anyone get out of taking a single quarter from this quarters-only business? One would have to repeat this scheme 28 times to get a full cycle of free laundry. 

“You just don’t know how to use it.”

So the owner thinks he’s stupid. After more yelling and non-listening, the owner doesn’t budge. The young man retreats to his wet clothes and bites his loss. Believe it or not, that handsome young man was me. And if you want to know how the other fifty cents were lost, it was in a similar fashion. After starting the machine, when prompted to add 25 cents for three minutes, the machine did not register the extra token. Hoping to avoid conflict, I decided to let it slide and put in another coin. Another lost quarter.

Well, this wouldn’t do. I expressed to Rick that the machine ate my money and once again he snapped-

“You don’t know how to use the machine. Next time, just ask me to do it.”

No. I’ll never ask anything of you, Rick. You can trust that. 

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. 

Is it time to swap my clothes already? Wow. Time flies when you’re living in the past. As I grab a cart and move towards the dryer, Rick stands in my way. He won’t stop looking at me. What is it? Is my fly down? Can’t be, because I’m wearing sweatpants. Do I have toilet paper on my shoe or sticking out of my buttcrack? That’s not it either. Why won’t he stop looking at me? He’s probably watching to see if I fuck up again. He’s waiting for the next opportunity to yell at me and exploit me. But I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Excuse me.”

“Okay.”

He steps aside. Good. Finally, he’s starting to listen to me. As I go to pop my wet clothes into the dryer, I can feel his eyes on me again. It’s like the Eye of Sauron. His gaze burns up and down my spine and I feel unsafe. Exposed. Clearly, he wants something from me. More quarters? Well, don’t worry, bitch. You’re about to get one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight– two whole dollars. Hooray for extortion.

I finish the process and prepare for the next hour. When I return to my bench, Rick comes swaying in my direction. What is this dude’s problem? He stops in front of me. Does he have something he wants to say to me? Even if I fantasize about his gruesome death whenever I walk in, he doesn’t know that. At least as far as I’m aware. I never came to a conclusion on the mind-reading thing. 

I want to say something, tell him to buzz off, but I’m caught in silence. Something sinister lurks behind those eyes. His gaze is fixed and intense. What’s he looking at? I keep my view locked on the ground. I see a cockroach wiggling around. Maybe I should tell him that his business is disgusting. But that won’t help anything. Finally, he sweeps some junk from beneath the bench next to me. 

Rick shuffles off, presumably to terrorize some other innocent customer. I should have said something. What’s there to lose? Since I know I’m never coming back, I can say whatever I want right now and face no consequences. Maybe he’ll have an open mind and I can teach him something about honor. And perhaps then he’ll be inclined to give me a proper refund. I spend the next hour stewing and trying to build the confidence to speak up.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

My laundry’s done. Nothing I can do about it now. I should just leave I take another deep breath. Okay. Before I load the hamper, I’m going to have a word with him. I rise from my seat and march towards the front of the shop. Each step I take feels like a cannon blast, echoing up my ankles, into my knees, and rattling my chest. I’m starting to lose my breath, but I won’t back down. Not this time. In fact, I see Rick standing right in front of my dryer. What a coincidence. The laundry gods must be on my side. As I approach him, I clear my throat and… swerve out of the way. I’m face to face with the glass door of the dryer and can see my reflection in it. This is the face of a chicken. In the mirror, I notice Rick observing me. 

Focus. I turn to Rick and he tilts his head. Snapping back to my front, I swipe my clothes as quickly as possible and bolt. I look behind me and see Rick watching my exit. I wonder if he knows this is the last time he’ll ever see me. I wonder if he could sense I had something to say. I wonder if he thinks even less of me because I wasn’t brave enough to stand up to him today. Somehow, I feel that my cowardice will have grave consequences. But as I ascend the steps of my apartment, I realize I’m making the journey from this laundromat up to my home for the last time.

Even if I wasn’t strong enough to stand up to the thief, I’m preparing for a new beginning. I thank the universe that my last dance with the laundromat is over. I thank the heavens that I’ll never have to see dumpy Rick again. I couldn’t tell you why he gets under my skin so much, but after today it doesn’t matter. I take the first breath of the rest of my life and smile. It’s over…

Okay.