Alone in the Crowded Laundromat

“Let me tell ya, there never seems to be an open washer when I come down here, and I mean never. This is like a once a week trip and I can’t seem to even faintly remember the last time I was able to snag a washer right away. It’s like the whole universe is plotting against me or something.” Marc said to the woman next to him. “Never have problems with dryers, funny enough. Always one of those available. But these dang washers, I gotta wait around a half-hour just to get the clothes in! Can ya believe it?”

Marc turned and glanced at the woman on his left. She was young, probably in her twenties, had straight, milk chocolate hair and strong blue eyes. She met his eager gaze with an unsure glance. When Marc refused to turn away, she let out a sigh and removed her earbuds.

“What? I’m listening to music.”

“Oh sorry, my bad.” Marc turned back towards the washers. “Is your stuff already in, or are you also waiting?” He looked over.

The young lady looked up towards the ceiling, drew a deep breath, and closed her eyes. She then reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and paused the music.

“Dude I’m just trying to listen to my music and wait for my stuff to be done, what do you want?”

“Well I was just gonna ask if you already had your stuff in, or if you were waiting too, but you already answered the question I guess,” Marc said. “The only reason I asked if you were still waiting because I was just trying to figure out how long I’m gonna be hanging around here, and I guess trying to make some friendly conversation, ya know?”

Marc looked over. He immediately knew her headphones were in; he gave up on trying to placate the young lady. There was still a half-hour before Marc could even start the extensive process of doing laundry, so he decided to take a lap around the laundromat and see what was going on. Further down the aisle was a man and a child, back in the corner was a young guy, and in the aisle behind Marc was an older couple. Marc started to stroll down the aisle.

Marc drew nearer to the man and the boy. He presumed they were father and son. The man seemed to be in his forties, he had wavy jet-black hair and full black beard which had some grey patches around the chin. He wore thick brown work boots, navy blue jeans, and a light blue t-shirt that once had a band name on it but had since faded. The kid, who was maybe eight or nine, had short brown hair, a round face, and wore black sweatpants and a plain red t-shirt. The two of them were on a tablet together.

“What are you guys up to? Maybe reading a book? Doing homework? Anything fun?” Marc asked.

The father looked up; a puzzled look covered his face. “What do you want bro? I’m just trying to watch a show with my son.”

“Oh! What’s your name bud? How old are you?”

“Don’t answer him, Danny, we don’t talk to strangers.” The man put the tablet down and rose from his seat. When he had stood up, he was more than a few inches taller than Marc and stared down at him. The man continued in a hushed voice, “You leave my son alone, or we’re gonna have some problems. Follow?”

Marc nodded and carefully backed away. After just a few seconds the dad and his son were back to the tablet, and everything else in the laundromat wasn’t there. Marc looked on for a few seconds, shook his head, and turned towards the other aisle when he saw the man in the corner on his phone. He started to walk towards him. He was a young man with curly black hair, some messy black stubble, black running shoes, grey joggers and a white sweatshirt. Marc heard voices coming from the phone, but the young man remained silent.

“You watching a video or movie or tv show or something? You know I’ve actually been meaning to start watching some of the classic, old-timey, black and white movies now that you mention it, I gotta get on that next rainy day.”

The young man looked up from his phone, “What did you say dude? I’m just trying to watch a basketball game here.”

           “Oh sweet, I love basketball. Who’s playing? Who are you rooting for? I don’t really have a favorite team, but I love to just watch, there’s always something cool going on.”

           “Lakers and Kings, and it’s getting close so if you could just let me do my own thing back here that’d be cool.”

           “Oh, damn I bet that’ll be a good finish,” Marc said. “Hey, you know what! It is a gorgeous Saturday afternoon. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, spring is in the air! How about we go to the park right around the corner and play some basketball? I haven’t played basketball with anyone in ages. You’d probably crush me but that’s cool, long as we get a sweat in, right?”

           The young man didn’t even look up from the phone. “It’s the fourth quarter dude, and my laundry is gonna be done soon—like an hour or something—so just give me some space, thanks.”

           “Yeah. Sure. You got it, man.” Marc glanced down at the floor and trudged away, down the aisle.

           Further down the aisle was an older woman, and an older man, Marc thought they looked like they were in their seventies.

           Oh perfect, they’ll chat with me. I bet they’ve got plenty of interesting and exciting stories to share.

The old man had a worn-out baseball cap on and wore a light grey button-down tucked into his wrinkly khakis. He adjusted his old brown jacket. The woman wore a light flowery shirt, black slacks, and had curly hair, which was a dull red, clearly just hair coloring to disguise her greyness. As Marc approached, he spoke with excitement.

“Hello! I’m waiting to put my laundry in and was just hoping to find some friendly company to pass the time with. You guys looked like just those people. How’re you doing?”

When Marc got closer and saw them more clearly, he let out an audible sigh, clenched a fist, hit the dryer to his right, and just kept walking.

Marc looked around at everyone in the laundromat on this sunny Saturday afternoon. The young lady was listening to her music, the father and son were watching a video, the young man was absorbed in his basketball, and the older couple were both typing away frenetically on their phones. Marc sat down in a seat at the front of the laundromat at looked out at the street. Cars zoomed by honking, drivers cursing. Somebody must’ve been on the phone while driving. Everyone who walked by was absorbed in their flashing lights and occasional beeps. Probably calling an ex, texting some pointless gossip to people who you know aren’t really your friends. Even the kids, even the older folks, everyone was absorbed. Twenty-four times a washer opened throughout the rest of that day. People came in, people left, it didn’t matter to Marc. He didn’t get up to put clothes in once. He sat there until the night when the lights in the laundromat dimmed and the cleaning staff shuffled him out.

Marc pulled out his phone. What do the clothes even matter for? Thought Marc. Nobody is going to see them anyways.