I was at the laundromat today. I decided to go to an older one in town for a change of pace; and also because I'd had such a negative experience at one of the newer ones (that's a another story for another time).
Speaking of another time, this laundromat felt like it was caught between two different decades: the 70's and the 80's. When I walked in, I couldn't tell if the walls were supposed to be pale yellow or if they were supposed to be white and years of cigarette smoke had stained them. The washers were "front-load," which are supposed to be more economical. However, these machines looked like they were installed at the inception of the idea of laundromats (I'm surprised they didn't have a roller attached to the top)
It seemed as if every other machine had something wrong with it: the coin slots were taped shut; the detergent containers didn't have coverings; the indicator lights were blinking instead of remaining steady during use; or there were signs taped to several machines that simply stated "Out of order" due to some unknown mechanical malady.
As I slammed my laundry basket on the floor while searching for a suitable row of machines, a heavy-set attendant comes over to me and asks," Do you need help?" I politely decline and inform her that I'm just doing laundry. She shuffles off back into the lounge. I find two machines together and load my clothes into the washers. As I'm separating my clothes, one of the video games bursts into playing some electronic-type, rip-off version of the theme from the Newly-Wed Game. I'm assuming it's meant to give the impression of a party-like atmosphere full of excitement. (Ha! You've got to be kidding me!).
After getting the machine started, I go to the lounge part of the business and sit at a table. The lounge is cool and dark. Some of the windows have been blackened out with paint as if it were some dive in a 1950's street-gang movie, along with pool tables and low hanging lights. Along with the personable attendant who is now playing video games, a lone male sits at the bar. He looks to be in his fifties, and looks at me as I sit down. He smiles at me and knods his head yes. I'm thinking, "uh, no; I don't think so." He soon turns back to the bar, drinks out of his long-neck bottle, and goes back to watching Bonanza on the small TV behind the bar. (Oh Little Joe, don't be mean to Hoss).
Thirty minutes later my clothes are ready for the dryers and my task is to find a decently working one. I can honestly say without exaggeration that almost every other dryer on the side wall has a sign on it stating "out of order."
Man! This used to be a really cool place to do one's laundry. It used to have a big screen TV in the lounge and cute tables and soft couches. It used to be really bright and airy and they even had food like burgers, fries,etc. Lots of college kids went there to do their laundry and have a cold beer or two while they waited. the clientele, as well as the condition of the equipment, are totally different now. What happened to this place? All I can say now is that this business did not age well.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Memorial Day
On this Memorial Day, May 25, 2009, while I watched the many televised tributes to the soldiers of World War II, I am reminded of my uncle, Jose Salmeron. Uncle Joe, as I called him, was my mother's brother. We were not very close and I might even say that at times, I wasn't fond of him at all, only because he was an alcohoic and he would often argue with my mother and such arguments would many times leave her in tears.
My uncle Joe was also a veteran of World War II. I'm not sure where in Europe he went through during the war, but my mother told me he was at Normandy. And he came back to the US on the Queen Mary.
Uncle Joe died a few years ago of lung cancer. I wish I'd talked to him of his experiences of the war and of many things he went through as a youth and later into his adulthood. It's taken me a few years to realize the person he was when he drank was not the same person he was when he didn't. But as the cliche goes, "hindsight is 20/20."
I guess I'm writing this to honor his service and his memory. Thank you Uncle Joe.
My uncle Joe was also a veteran of World War II. I'm not sure where in Europe he went through during the war, but my mother told me he was at Normandy. And he came back to the US on the Queen Mary.
Uncle Joe died a few years ago of lung cancer. I wish I'd talked to him of his experiences of the war and of many things he went through as a youth and later into his adulthood. It's taken me a few years to realize the person he was when he drank was not the same person he was when he didn't. But as the cliche goes, "hindsight is 20/20."
I guess I'm writing this to honor his service and his memory. Thank you Uncle Joe.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)