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If there's anything more dead than a laundrette at 10pm on a Friday night I've yet to see it. There was exactly one other person there, and while she had a toddler with her, I found myself utterly un-reassured by the presence of other humans. I'm just a defective herd animal that way.
So. My clothes are dizzying their way through the spin cycle, a bad washer ate a whole dollar and refused to work, and I'm hanging out in the car listening to the Lightning game on the radio. (Which. They lost. FUCK.)
A white car pulls up, a few spots down. I notice it (I notice everything!) and go back to listening to Brad Richards get penalties for stupid reasons.
"AH-SCOO ME?" And there's a guy waving at me, standing about four feet away from the car. He's Asian, he's the sort of thin that could be called 'wiry,' he apparently only knows how to shout in badly broken English, and he's waving at me with the world's biggest grin on his face.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW YOU GET TO DAL MABREE?" he asks. For those of you not local: Dale Mabry (which is named after a test pilot who died in the 1920's) is a rather large thoroughfare through Tampa. The joke is, "It's on Dale Mabry? There's twenty miles of it, be specific." Fortunately, this road is two intersections down, so I tell him that -- it's not this light, but the next one. "Not this X but the next one" is perfectly cromulent direction giving around here. To him it is not; we spend a minute or two discussing the concept. I'm assuming once he finds the street he knows where else to go. Really should learn not to assume people have a clue about anything.
Then he smiles even bigger. "I WANT TO FIND DAL MABREE SO I GO TO TAMPA!" he exclaims.
I... um. Uh. The Mr. Tumnus in my head splutters out, my dear boy, you're in it. I think on this for a moment and decide that, if I'm having trouble directing this guy to an intersection we can both see from where we are, there's no way in hell I can get him to understand he's already surrounded by a city he's so excited about visiting. Also, I really don't want to see the guy disappointed when he realizes Tampa is just strip malls and apartment complexes. He looks so damn excited about going to Tampa. So I tell him, not this light but the next one, then go right. We go over that a few times to be sure he's got it, and at the end of it I'm not sure he understands.
"THANK YOU!!!!" he says, scampering back to his car, waving his fool hand off and smiling even more.
I'm really not doing my laundry on Fridays anymore.
So. My clothes are dizzying their way through the spin cycle, a bad washer ate a whole dollar and refused to work, and I'm hanging out in the car listening to the Lightning game on the radio. (Which. They lost. FUCK.)
A white car pulls up, a few spots down. I notice it (I notice everything!) and go back to listening to Brad Richards get penalties for stupid reasons.
"AH-SCOO ME?" And there's a guy waving at me, standing about four feet away from the car. He's Asian, he's the sort of thin that could be called 'wiry,' he apparently only knows how to shout in badly broken English, and he's waving at me with the world's biggest grin on his face.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW YOU GET TO DAL MABREE?" he asks. For those of you not local: Dale Mabry (which is named after a test pilot who died in the 1920's) is a rather large thoroughfare through Tampa. The joke is, "It's on Dale Mabry? There's twenty miles of it, be specific." Fortunately, this road is two intersections down, so I tell him that -- it's not this light, but the next one. "Not this X but the next one" is perfectly cromulent direction giving around here. To him it is not; we spend a minute or two discussing the concept. I'm assuming once he finds the street he knows where else to go. Really should learn not to assume people have a clue about anything.
Then he smiles even bigger. "I WANT TO FIND DAL MABREE SO I GO TO TAMPA!" he exclaims.
I... um. Uh. The Mr. Tumnus in my head splutters out, my dear boy, you're in it. I think on this for a moment and decide that, if I'm having trouble directing this guy to an intersection we can both see from where we are, there's no way in hell I can get him to understand he's already surrounded by a city he's so excited about visiting. Also, I really don't want to see the guy disappointed when he realizes Tampa is just strip malls and apartment complexes. He looks so damn excited about going to Tampa. So I tell him, not this light but the next one, then go right. We go over that a few times to be sure he's got it, and at the end of it I'm not sure he understands.
"THANK YOU!!!!" he says, scampering back to his car, waving his fool hand off and smiling even more.
I'm really not doing my laundry on Fridays anymore.
