I lived in Laguna Beach, California in the 1980's.  My husband and I lived near some obnoxiously wealthy home owners.  We sat in cafes besides local artists and musicians and we shared the beach with bronzed surfer kids and groups of  transient youth kicking their hacky sacks.  It seemed like all of these people rich or poor ended up at the Laundromat.

There was always lots of activity at the Laundromat.  You could watch a man hunting through the trash for food, while listening to a nearby conversation about an African safari.  If you were really lucky you might catch a glimpse of "The Skipper" if he got off his usual route along the Coast Highway.  This was not a man of the sea.  He was a man who liked to skip.   

I liked observing all the characters, but I wasn't always eager to converse.  I kept myself busy or absorbed in a book, so rarely did I chat.  I do remember one day sharing a bench with a somewhat energetic man with dirty clothes and long stringy hair.  He munched on cheese puffs for a while, then disappeared and returned with a pint of ice cream.  He greeted me with glassy eyes as I loaded my washer and asked if I wanted some ice cream.  I answered no thanks and tried to ignore his swaying presence.  He got my attention again when he bent his knees as if practicing a comical bow, then in a slow motion sweep, he gently kicked my tennis shoe with his foot.   I stopped and gave him a somewhat irritated look.  He grinned back and said softly, "Knock on wood."

Thanks for this odd memory, Laundry Man.  Even though you were a little creepy as you invaded my space, you did offer to share your food.  And whether you were mentally ill, high, drunk or just lacking in social skills, you took your cue and there was no further pestering and no big scene.  You reminded me that we share this world and our Laundromats with all kinds of people. We don't have  to be chummy with everyone we see, but we need to show a little respect.   I respect you for letting me get back to my book.

They started arriving before sunrise as I busied myself in the dim light under the porte cochere.  I heard car doors slam and looked up and saw silhouettes moving across the lawn like hopeful zombies.    They hung back staring at my disorganized mess (nearly as bad as photo) and I begged them to return later. A construction worker stomped away annoyed. A mother and small child begged to just look a little bit.  A creepy man whose mother might have owned the Bates Motel, crossed his arms and said, "I'll wait." 

By 7 am I was drenched from  the humidity, but ready to open up and get this over with.  My son Scott and his friend Suraj raced to throw larger items out on  the drive.  I cringed at my lack of "display".  I had so badly wanted to play
store and have things pretty.  Forget it.

The creepy man continued to lurk. He frowned at some costume jewelry and begged me to look in my house for more.   I assured him I didn't  have time and he pouted and leaned against a brick pillar as if waiting until I did.  Other shoppers flew from their cars, grabbing items like  it was a moonlight madness sale.   They ignored my mother's French Provincial  bedroom set and still sealed PBS DVDs.  They filled their arms with new boxes of  Tide and L'eggs panty hose and buckets of rags. I was proud when I caught a few  clever shoppers trying to combine items I had stapled into  Ziplock baggies.   No time to  wonder how many thieves I didn't catch.  

 I tried to explain to one woman who spoke little English why I wouldn't go down on the price of the child's antique rocker. I later caught her trying to put it into her car.  Hmm? Did she think I said, "No, I won't lower the price, so take it for free."  Another woman arrived in a Lexus and spoke with a thick accent.   She tried to haggle me down on a 25 cent travel clock.  "Yes, I know the  battery cover is missing.  That's why it's not a dollar!"   "Why not a  dime?"  She demanded.  "No that price is firm!"  I answered...as if I really cared about the clock or the money.  I don't mind a  little  haggling, but this was an aggressive power play...and she was driving a  Lexus! 

The Feisty Man Arrives

I was pretty impatient by the time the old man arrived.   He took his time creating a large pile of 50-cent items and then he was ready for some haggling. He had the same accent as  Lexus Lady, but he came on foot...although he may have owned a Lexus!  The first thing Feisty Man did was announce his  age. "I am 83 years old. You make me a deal!  You give me a very good price  because I am an old man."  I laughed because I could see his eyes smiling.  I told him I was pretty old, too and that's why I needed his good money.  We spent many minutes laughing and bartering. I added a little eye rolling and whining to his drama.  I was happy to give in finally.  I gave the man $20 worth  of junk for $5 because he amused me.  After I took his money he added.  "Now, how will I get this home? I walked over a mile."  Then he seemed to have a good idea. "No problem,"  He said as he scribbled out his address on a piece of  paper.   I gasped when he asked me to deliver his purchase to his home.  "Are you kidding?"  I laughed. "You  want me to deliver $5. worth of stuff!?" Surely he was joking, but I could see Suraj nearby shaking his head and smiling as if he recognized this kind of converstion.  Then the fiesty old man  grinned.  "You deliver and I  will give you some good Indian food." 

Just then there was a rumble and I could see storm clouds  moving closer.  I  sighed and told Scott and Suraj  to just get in the car and  drive our friend  home.  The old man smiled and  followed the boys down the drive,  carrying his  loot.  By the time  the boys  returned, it was raining and I had pulled  in the last of the goods  the goods from  drive.  I took a quick sample of the Indian  food.  Just enough to  give me energy  to start packing up for a run to  Goodwill. 



Thank You Feisty  Man.   You gave me a chuckle at  the end of a frustrating  morning.   You amused me with your determination.  Were you actually charming,  or were you just charming in comparison to the  others?  I hope you didn't walk  away laughing that you'd pulled a good one  over on me. It felt like a win-win to  me.  You got your  stuff and a ride.   I got rid of some stuff...and a funny memory!