Laundromat
I do a lot of things simply because they are fun or interesting, which includes doing my own laundry. I suppose I could have my laundry picked up by a service, or drop it off and have some one else take care of it, but I prefer to do it myself. It usually takes me about two hours, and I use the time to meet new friends, observe customs, and form opinions based on observations. It’s a difficult process meeting new friends in a Laundromat, mostly because everyone is trained to be on guard at all times.
The Laundromat I use is in an ethnically diverse area of Chicago. On any given day I might be the only white person in the building. That by itself is an interesting aspect of the chore; I get to understand what it might be like for a minority person to be alone in a completely white environment. A less traveled person might find the experience uncomfortable, but I’ve found it to be rewarding because the people are so diverse and interesting.
The people that come to the Laundromat are loud and full of life, or quiet and reflective, or brooding and sinister. The kids play like they own the place, and maybe for a few hours they actually do. Girls just barely old enough to blow their own noses are chaperoning siblings or children of their own. Old men shuffle down aisle ways while their families keep a watchful eye on them. Old women, beaten down by the trials of life, stoop to their tasks next to perky young things just beginning their trek into responsibility. It’s a kaleidoscope of life, and it’s great fun to participate.
Unfortunately, the people in the Laundromat are very camera shy. Some feel it’s an intrusion, others are afraid I’m from Immigration, and the gang bangers… well I think you can understand why they don’t want me taking their picture. So I use my iPhone to take pictures of innocuous stuff. Still, when they see me pointing that thing anywhere near them, I get the beat down stare. But, at least when you see me you’ll know I’m wearing clean underwear!
