Laundramat Encounters

Laudromat Encounters

(Note: This is something I wrote for the amuselment of the folks I hang around with at a politics and culture web discussion board.)

Saturday I had to venture out and do something I hate to do; interact with the public. This is because, as most of you know, I hate people.

This time it was to launder my duvet. I have a large capacity washer that allows me to launder everything else (note to environmental chicks; it's one of those high efficiency washers that uses less water and electricity. Note to Republican chicks; it cost a LOT more than a regular washer). It can handle my king-size sheets easily, but the duvet is just too much.

So, I reluctantly left my heavily fortified hill-top compound, being careful to avoid eye-contact with my neighbors as I left and drove to the local coin laundry, where they have those big giant machines that will do a heavy-duty load for $3.25 (which is 1 Euro dollar or 579025341 Canuckistani rupees).

I was in luck; there were only a few people there when I arrived and none of the big machines (located in the back of the place) were being used. I loaded my duvet into one and then went to one of the side-by-side the change machines, located in the from of the store. Where all the people were.

The first dollar bill (also called a "note" by you Brits, Aussies, Kiwis, South Africans and Canadians) was being a little reluctant in its desire to be shoved into the changer slot; this gave one of the other customers there an opportunity to interact with me.

Crap.

This guy was wearing shorts, a t shirt, a trucker cap and wrap-around "American Chopper" label dark mirrored lens sunglasses. He commented, "Yeah, I hate it when the machine won't take my money."

Fair enough, a reasonable "small talk" type of comment.

"Oh, it'll go in a second..." I responded and sure enough, my "l337 haxor sk1llz" managed to make the bill ("note") get shoved into the machine and four quarters drop out the bottom. Like magic. Fuckin' magic.

So, is that enough for my "American Chopper" shaded friend? No. Not by a long shot. He then proceeded to tell me all about how "pretty soon" we'll all be using credit cards for everything "and the government will be tracking every move we make!" OK, you know what? That's actually a reasonable comment, too and something we all discussed back when the "Real ID" law passed here in the US and everyone was all afraid that having an actual ID to, you know, ID yourself was "bad."

So, I decided to engage this obviously deeply intellekshul individual to see just how far I could take this conversation.

"Yeah, you'll have one card for ID, passport, credit and debit cards."

He lit up. He'd found a kindred soul, someone who had thought about this nearly as much as he had.

"Oh yeah. And then they're gonna put a chip in your neck, man. The Indians (Alan's note: this confused me. The Cleveland Indians?) in Silicon Valley (I lived in Silicon Valley, I don't recall a lot of Native Americans there) are developing a chip that tracks you man. The government's gonna put it in every immigrant and track them and then it'll explode and kill them if they stay too l0ong. They're doing this, man!"

Seriously. That guy actually was saying this to me. I thought, "Dude, you've confused Escape From New York with real life. Who the fuck do you think you are, Snake Pliskin?"

So, I quickly but politely (because Snake Pliskin carried a big assed knife and so maybe this guy did, too) excused myself to go back to my $3.25 (1 Euro dollar or 579025341 Canuckistani rupees) machine and launder my duvet.

Later, I saw my new friend leave; he packed up his laundry and put it in his car - a beat up old compact station wagon emblazoned with "Bush/Cheney 2004" and "W 04" stickers.

So, Bushbots, this guy? He's all yours.