I love the laundromat. I guess I love it because thankfully I don’t have to frequent it that often…only on the rare occasion when either my washer, dryer, or both gives up the ghost.
The first thing I love about the coin-op is, after you put your clothing into whatever machine is required, you make your way over to the vending machines. You take quarters from your pocket, purchase a can of diet Pepsi, a bag of chips and then you scout out one of those pale turquoise sculpted plastic seats to perch on while you enjoy your snack and wait for the machines to work their magic.
The second thing I love about the laundromat is the sound the washing machines make when they enter the spin cycle. You only hear that frenzied whirl in a laundromat where all they have are front load machines. It sounds like the washers are going to take flight…right out the plate glass windows.
The people in the laundromat are so interesting as well. You have your “regulars”. They’re the ones that live in apartments and don’t have a washer/dryer of their own. The regulars are willing to help you in any way they can. They know the drill. They are familiar with the machines that take your money for a 20 minute dry…but in actuality, only gives you 15 and a half minutes. They give you the lowdown on the washer on the left in the middle that will snarl your clothes without mercy and have your clothes emerge twenty four minutes later as if they went through the beaters of a Kitchen Aid mixer on high.
You have your vacation people…the ones who are just passing through with their hot and sticky kids in tow. These little ones are usually enjoying a bribe of a melting chocolate ice cream cone which is dripping down their shirts and onto their socks and sneakers. You can hear the mothers sigh as they realize that laundry on vacation doesn’t take a vacation.
Once, when living in North Carolina and having to visit the laundromat because ours was on the blink, I met a Sous-Chef from the Greystone Inn in Toxaway. Her previous career was Marine Biologist and then unexpectedly she became a cook on a small boat after her mother bragged to the crew about what great culinary potential she had. From there, she seriously studied the art of creating gastronomic delights and went on to work at the Greystone Inn. She confessed with her knowledge and bonding with ocean creatures, she still has trouble putting a lobster in the pot for the surf and turf entrees.
Her mom was at the laundromat too. She told us that her husband passed away a few years ago and now she lives with her daughter, the chef. She told me she does the laundry for the two of them and what a challenge it was to get some of the food stains out of the white coats that her daughter must wear when cooking. A lesson on laundry products was then proffered. Apparently, Oxyclean is the winner in making the coats whiter than white and taking out those pesky tomato sauce and gravy stains.
She went on to tell us that after the laundry was washed and dried, they were going to inspect the cabin that they own in Brevard. They were concerned about the cabin’s ability to weather the rain that has pelted the area in the past week. The shanty was 90 years old and had been in the family for as long. “It needs work”, they lamented, “but we can’t bear to part with it.” It was all about family and tradition for them.
Our dryers ticked down to zero minutes and soon we were both folding our clothing. We said our goodbyes and parted ways; she with her gleaming white chef coats and me with my not so white sheets and towels.
I made a note to pick up some Oxyclean next time I’m at the food store.