11th & Irving Laundromat to Customers: Drop Dead!

At 2pm today, the rangewife and I filled three triple-load front-loading washers at the 11th Avenue Laundromat (at 1001 Irving Street), a business which is owned by Satan-worshipping war criminals who listen to Britney Spears and eat Husky puppies before bed.

We paid little mind to the "only cold water" sign on one of the washers, since the darks were going in there anyway.

But now, four hours later, our clothes are being washed and washed and washed. Yes, three weeks' worth of t-shirts, jeans and socks are being destroyed by a washer that eternally thinks it has 22 minutes left to go. Because it's a front-loader, the door is hopelessly locked, and there are no buttons or plugs to shut the fucker down. All the master controls for the store are padlocked. Only someone with a key ring on his or her belt can save us now.

Notice the suds have turned a nice, deep shade of blue:

Now, you're probably like, Seamus, you idiot. Why don't you just call the management? A ha!

• "Management" consists of a Yahoo voicemail number on the wall.
• The business number is not listed anywhere in the phone book, directory assitance, or the Internet, even by address. Although a picture exists on the A9.com business maps, a listing for the business doesn't.

An off-duty cop who was also doing his Saturday suds graciously offered to help, but couldn't do much. He contacted an officer in a patrol car, who called the "emergency number" for the business and found it to be a disconnected cell phone. What if there were a fire on the premises? How would the owners find out? How would they know about the big fire, the one set by the disgruntled customer, the disgruntled customer with no clean pants?

So hours later our garments continue to slosh and spin, the colors and dyes leaching away, hundreds of dollars of clothing in the process of destruction. My cell phone number is posted on the machine; I await somebody, anybody, to rescue what were once our darks.

Update: The cleaning woman called at 10:30pm and released the clothes from their watery prison. Eight and half hours of washing make black socks gray and new Seven jeans into Jordache acid-washed. I doubt the owners will ever call, which means a little less consorting with devil-worshipping child molesters.

Comments

[dalton]

Well? Well? Did you ever get them out?

[cedichou]

Man, that's tough. How about breaking that window with the bench in the laundromat? No fire, alas, but a flood from the disgruntled customer.

[seamus]

Thanks for the comments. Update above.

[Dinah Sanders]

It's worth checking with your renters insurance to see if it will cover this. It might well. Good luck!

[Justin]

interested in seeing the results of the jeans. thats a pretty funny story.

if you wouldnt mind, send me a note or picture. lately i have been interested in viewing the results of putting jeans under different types of stress. prolonged washing is just hillarious though.