I was doing my laundry this morning down the street at the laundromat, appropriately enough.
Walked in around 10:30, and there was a guy asleep on one of the folding counters. Strange, I thought, perhaps a homeless man looking for shelter from the cold. He wasn’t in my way, so I went about my business. Shortly before 11, he woke up.
This was not a homeless man; this was a hopelessly lost drunk frat boy. Yes, he was still drunk at 11 a.m., and had no idea what time it was or where he was.
He stumbled around, asking incoherent questions of the ladies emptying the change from the washers, who happened to be near him. He fumbled with his CD player, gave up trying to plug in the headphones or push buttons, and wandered out the door. There, the sunlight almost knocked him down. I looked where he’d been sleeping later, and it seems he was using a plastic bag containing other plastic bags as a pillow. I also noticed as he left that he inexplicably was carrying a spindle of blank CDs.
The change ladies and I looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to what we were doing.
Oh, my wacky neighborhood.