White collar criminal

For most of my adult life, I have lived in apartment buildings that did not have laundry facilities, requiring me to go to laundromats. At first I felt very put off by this – it always seemed like such a hassle to have to pack up the car and drive somewhere just to get some clean socks. But the more I did it, the more I realized how much I enjoyed the experience. You really get to see a slice of life in the laundromat that you don’t encounter anywhere else.

After many years of regular visits to laundromats, I started to develop a simple theory: crazy people do not own washers and dryers. Maybe you have to fill out a license or take some sort of test in order to get that type of major appliance, but there seems to be an absolutely disproportionate number of loonies frequenting the neighborhood laundromats.

Because of this statistic, I have developed an irrational fear surrounding laundromats. Whenever I’m taking my laundry out of the giant dryers, and I have to reach way back to grab a lone sock or t-shirt, I am struck by the image of some crazy person shoving me into the dryer and turning it on. Now, I’ve never been accused of being athletic, but I’m pretty sure I could easily kick open a dryer door. Nevertheless, it still kind of freaks me out.

I remember once while I was quietly reading the newspaper and waiting for my clothes to dry, a woman came in with her two grubby children in tow. She walked with great purpose as she started leading her kids around the laundromat. In the loudest voice that could still be considered talking, she said:

“THIS IS WHERE MOMMY USED TO COME TO DO HER LAUNDRY! THIS IS WHERE PEOPLE HAVE TO GO WHEN THEY DON’T HAVE A WASHER AND DRYER LIKE WE DO! THESE PEOPLE HAVE TO PAY $1.50 EVERY TIME THEY WANT TO WASH THEIR CLOTHES!”

And just like that, she circled the laundromat and stomped out. In that moment, I felt a very strong bond with the other two people in the laundromat as we opened our eyes widely at each other, and made the international hand gesture for “crazy” (point right finger at ear and turn clockwise).

We had all just been snubbed by a lunatic, simply because she had her own washer and dryer, and we didn’t. While the idea that this woman owned her own appliances does challenge my theory, I strongly suspect that she either got them on the black market or had a friend buy them for her.

The other problem I have encountered with public laundromats is theft. For some reason, ordinary upstanding citizens who would never even consider stealing a pack of gum from the local 7-Eleven think nothing of pilfering dryer sheets, or nabbing a jug of detergent.

In fact, just a few weeks ago, I fell victim to the laundry crime ring. Waiting for my clothes to get through the spin cycle, I decided to get something to drink. The pop machine in the laundromat, with its retro assortment of beverages, left something to be desired: Orange Nehi, Grape Nehi, and Mr. Pib. So after some internal debate, I decided to go next door to the Quizno’s to grab a Coke. I was only there for about ten minutes, but when I went back to check on my laundry, I immediately noticed that my laundry detergent was gone. I quickly glanced around the room to assess the potential suspects.

They all had the means, and the motive was clear – it was an almost full bottle of Tide Ultra With Bleach Alternative, Crisp Linen Scent. If only I hadn’t been so focused on impressing my friends with my fragrant clothes, maybe this never would have happened. Why, why did I have to buy top-shelf detergent?! A quick scan of the building showed that the culprit had made a clean getaway, and clearly mob mentality was at play here since no one would even make eye contact with me as I circled the store with great purpose, saying:

“THIS IS WHERE SOMEONE STOLE MY LAUNDRY DETERGENT! NOW I AM GOING TO HAVE TO PAY $1.50 TO BUY SOME EXTRA DETERGENT FROM THE VENDING MACHINE! IF I SMELL CRISP LINEN SCENT ON ANY OF YOU, YOU’D BETTER WATCH OUT!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman slowly start to point her right finger to her ear, until I burned her a look. Damn, where can I get one of those washer/dryer licenses?