rum-soaked bums, police, verbal slander & laundry detergent

There's nothing like laundry day/night, the impeding danger of not having any undergarments, the exhilarating scent of fabric softener, rebellious socks, possibility of meeting a nice doctor or maybe a nice religious guy. Either way, it's always an adventure.... usually a boring one with loud dryers and my runner's world or food & wine :)

Alas, i get my scary laundry adventure :\

I rushed out of the flat like a refugee with clothes in a rolley luggage, food & books in tote, basically the works! My workout went a little long and I was on the brink of no more clean clothes-- it's amazing how my clothes cycle is cut short whenever i workout like a fiend :/

Anyways, when i got to the laundry mat, i was met by two-- erm, people of the... erm, streets?! .... ok, fine... no PC-ness needed here-- Two drunken bums that are soooo loud, reeked of alcohol and smoke.

But who am i to judge, they were actual paying patron of the facility. So I let them be (even tho they were *LOUD*-- talking about gibberish) and just stayed to myself with my magazine and pasta ::yum::

As you can tell, things get worse. Cigarettes and booze comes out and someone called the authorities on them. Citations were issued, but they weren't escorted out because they *were* actually doing laundry.

So when the police left (they had no reason to stay there to 'protect' anyone), the beligerent bums started to lash out and throw around their weight: hitting counter, verbal slander, racist comments.

Com'on, who are you trying to kid me. I'm not going to f'ing leave my *beloved* clothes because you hit some counter. If i left, they could have touched my stuff, that would totally defeat the purpose to laundry night ($3 bucks down the drain!) I'm not going to say anything because then they'll just have some more ammo to throw back at me. Passive resistance.... altho i sooooo wanted to say something, but that's why i BLOG!

Things I'm glad I didnt say because there was no reason to argue with them because i was only going to waste my breath:

--You *wish* you were born 'Asian' then maybe you wouldn't be a bum on the street or so ignorant.
--I was born here you du-mass, it's as MY country as it's yours. Correction-- I pay taxes and dont leech off society, so in that case, I'm the f*ckin' land-owner, get out of MY country.
--You better watch out and stop trying to intimidate me by hitting the counters or i'll bruce-lee your ass because i'm 'ASIAN' like that-- we all know kung fu, you know.

i hate stupid (racist, stinky, poor, stinky) people. I guess you wont find me in a soup kitchen any time soon...

*Disclaimer: no socks were harmed in the telling of this story nor that night =D