Thursday, February 26, 2009

Just send it to Jesus, care of the Pentagon.

Yesterday I did my laundry. This involves me packing up my stuff in a shitty mesh hamper, bringing it down to my car, and driving up the street to Launderland. Launderland is right next to a 7-11, and across the street from a Fresh and Easy. This 7-11 that it shares a stripmall with, I have noticed, seems to be a bit of a magnet for what I typically describe as "weirdos". These dudes aren't always homeless, or drug addicts, but they are usualy homeless, or drug addicts.

Before doing laundry, a task which I find very tedious, I usually tend to intoxicate myself. It makes the task of sitting around and waiting while reading, or listening to podcasts or music so much more enjoyable. Yesterday I loaded my machines, inserted my coinage, and then walked to 7-11 to buy a tall can of Arizona Iced Tea. When I sat down back at the laundromat to enjoy my tea and listen to some tunes, I noticed a rather homeless looking man in a wheel chair pushing his way through the door. For a second I thought perhaps he had come in to ask the patrons of the laundromat for money. As it turned out, he was just doing a load of laundry. I felt a little bit like a jerk, but not really, because it wasn't an unreasonable thing to assume. I have no hang ups about him asking me for money so long as he doesn't harrass me further if I say no to him. He loaded his machine and went outside to watch the traffic go by, or the sun set or something. I continued listening to music until it was time to dry my clothing. After loading my dryers I decided I wanted to look into perhaps a snack food(munchies?) or something along those lines at the 7-11 next door.

I wandered about the isles of 7-11, and decided that instead of a snack, I would satiate the craving I had been having for Dr. Pepper lately. I got a Super Big Gulp, paid, and made my way back, but along the way decided it would be a good opportunity to put my bag that I had been carrying in my car. In my haze I accidently walked toward the car next to mine, which I also did in part because I noticed the wheel chair gentleman attempting to move out of my way on the sidewalk area.

"I see people do that all the time!" Said the wheelchaired man to me.
"What?" I said, as soon as I had realized my error in car spotting.
"Go to the wrong car. They all look so alike!" He clarified.
"Oh, yeah. Heh, I've done it before." I said, not especially interested in talking.

He continued talking to me from the curb, but the traffic started roaring past and I missed most of what he said. I nodded in a friendly manner though, and at the point I had accepted my fate as the guy that this dude was going to talk to for a while. Most of the conversation centered around how he had traveled the world, far and wide for some kind of career based in sports medicine. He also told me that his parents moved him to California when he was little, and then they moved to Ensenada, Mexico. He told me about how he had learned five languages, and how the Soviet Union fell, and how in China they won't let their atheletes ice their injuries because it isn't traditional. He spoke so much and so certainly that I could not get a word in edgewise. Eventually another neighborhood loafer showed up. He was a hispanic gentleman who looked to be in a bit better condition than our mutual friend. They knew each other. The man in the wheelchair eventually introduced himself to me as Bob.

Eventually a cop pulled into the parking lot behind a person he was pulling over, and Bob started talking a mild amount of shit about the officer. Oddly enough it was right at the time that my drying was finished and I had to excuse myself and go fold some clothing.

Something tells me this isn't the last I shall see of Bob.

Playlist: American Nightmare, Piebald, tall cans of Arizona Green Tea

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