Ah, laundromats. I haven’t been in many, as an adult. One of the last times was late night in Felony Flats in Eugene, OR in the late ‘80s, I guess. Me and the roommate had our dog with us, just because. Had the whole place to ourselves until a transient ( what the homeless were called at the time) came in. He was pleasant enough, probably bummed a smoke, and went to the back of the place to wash his clothes for free, in the sink. The evening ended, and a couple of weeks later we saw the guy’s picture in the paper. He’d been an escaped inmate. They said he’d been found when some folks saw his heavily tattooed arm sticking out of a garbage bag down by the river.
“The evening ended, and a couple of weeks later we saw the guy’s picture in the paper. He’d been an escaped inmate. They said he’d been found when some folks saw his heavily tattooed arm sticking out of a garbage bag down by the river.”
Yikes. I don’t even want to think about how close I probably came to disaster in those younger, more liberal days. I usually had pretty good instincts about people and God was definitely looking out for me/us... since nothing bad ever happened.