Nikki Yeager

 I set out today with the intent of finding a close, clean and friendly little place with washing machines galore. Instead I found a little hole in the wall with nothing but Chinese writing plastered across signs. I stared at the writing ... confused. After all, I don't speak Chinese. And industrial washing machines are oh so complicated for an original small-town girl. 

But I finally inhaled a deep, long breathe, and took a stab at it. Then watched my clothes start spinning.

The little Chinese lady in the back smiled at me. "ooo you pretty girl."

The whole situation reminds me of the first time I ever experienced the world of pay-for-wash machines. Being raised in Ohio I always had a washing machine, a dryer and a yard. So there I was, 18 years old and staring at a washing machine. There were slots for quarters and dials for settings. The little black rubber hole in the top perplexed me and I didn't understand the concept of a front load washer. It was all so weird.

Brian had been there with me during the first attempt. By asking for directions and relying on eachother we managed to get our delicates nice and clean.

But then I was alone. And there I was, confused. My first time washing solo. So I read the directions (twice) and stood there with my detergent in hand, determined to conquer the world of laundromats. I threw my clothes in (now I know there is a limit to how much will fit in a washer.... do NOT overstuff that limit). Anyways, I pushed with all my might to get the door closed and then turned it on and sat down. 30 minutes and counting.

All of a sudden I heard the sound no one wants to hear - BOOM BOOM BOOM RAAAARRRRRRRRRR BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM. My washing machine was going crazy. I somehow made it angry and now it was lashing out in fury, rattling and shaking and making everyone stare at me- the little Midwestern girl who breaks the machines.

Then my rage-filled washer let out one last grunt before spewing water all over the floor.

And I just sat there in awe. What now?

A man ran over with a towel and I sat there..... out of quarters. How was I going to pay for another load?!?! The embarrassment wasn't bad, but my clothes were all suddy and wet. What now?

Well, the embarrassment wasn't bad at first... but then he yanked open the machine and started flinging my clothes into a basket, desperately searching for the culprit.

There it was. My nice lacy bra.... perky and padded for those days where you just don't have enough for the low cut shirt you want to wear..... ripped in half. One cup was permenently snagged in the washing machine metal and one was neatly tangled into my black thong. The one that's lacy with the ties on the side.

The one most people never see.

And as he tried to work my bra out of the metal barrell, I stood there. Too shocked to move.

Until the hilarity struck me. Which is about the time I started bursting into laughter as the guy fondled my panties.

Ah, the world of washing machine misfortune.