For the first time in about two years, I’m living in an apartment with no washer and dryer, and as such, I must use the laundromat in my complex. Now, just because I have to shell out $2.50 per load to wash and dry my clothes does not mean that I’m gonna waste two hours of my life watching the clothes spin. So, I grabbed my Weber Barbecue Grill (accept no substitutes), put a twelve pack of Yuengling into the cooler (drink what you like—what do I care?), got a couple packs of brats from the freezer, and headed to the laundromat.
First, I started the fire (it takes about fifty minutes to get the coals ready for Bratwurst). After I put the clothes into the washing machine, I went outside of my complex's clubhouse and set my lawn chair in the parking spot I reserved for the barbecue (a sign stated that the spot was actually reserved for future residents, but the leasing office was closed so screw ‘em). Many people walked, rode or rollerbladed by, all offering me curious glances; but the first person to stop and talk to me was a young man. He wore a suit. And carried a book. A leather-bound book. I think you know where this is going.
“Hey there, I was just wondering if you’d given any thought to your eternal soul,” he said.
“Wanna beer?” I asked.
“No thank you,” he said. “I don’t drink anymore, now that I have Jesus in my heart. My name’s Josh”
“Well, good luck selling Jesus, Josh.”
“I don’t sell Jesus. The Lord is a gift.”
“Okay, well good luck selling the gift.”
“I’ll pray for you, sir.”
Somehow, I doubt he will.
After three beers and a switch of laundry to the dryer, I threw on the brats. I got to know a few of my neighbors over the course of the next hour, but none were more interested in my activities than a plump girl named Amanda.
“Are you barbecuing in a parking lot?” she asked
“Wanna beer?” I asked.
“Uh, no. Why don’t you go barbecue at your apartment?”
“I’m doing laundry now. I’m trying to get the most out of my time. How do you like your brats?”
“I don’t like brats. I’m a vegetarian. Don’t you think this is a little strange—barbecuing out in public like this? I don’t think it’s legal.”
“If barbecuing in the middle of a parking space in my apartment complex is wrong, I don’t wanna be right,” I said, before calling three other neighbors over to grab their brats. (All I had was mustard and relish, and I apologized for not having onions or ketchup. I try to be a good host.)
“So you just said to yourself, ‘I really want to drink beer, eat bratwurst, meet my neighbors and do laundry all at once.'”
“Well, I try not to talk to myself. And to tell you the truth, I think you’ve given this more thought than I have. I think, at most, I probably thought, ‘Dang, I have to do laundry. Maybe some beer and barbecue would make that more enjoyable.’”
“You are one strange guy.”
“This coming from a girl who doesn’t eat meat. I thought vegetarians were more open-minded.”
“I am open-minded. I’m just curious is all.”
After an uncomfortable pause I said, “Hey, why don’t you get some corn or potatoes or something and I’ll grill it for you. Still got some fire left.”
“Actually, I think I’m gonna go home and, um find something a little more normal than this. Like maybe X-Files or something.”
“Wow, zing!”
And she left.
So, all in all, it was a decent two hours. I met a few of the neighbors, made a few friends and I have clean underwear. I mean, what more could you want from a laundry day?