20:00 at the Wasch-n-Fun

To do laundry in my apartment, I have to knock on some stranger's door and buy some tokens to put in the machines. Like a carnival, but not as fun.

Instead, I decided to trek to Stühlinger, one of my favorite areas in Freiburg and only 10 minutes or so from my apartment. I found a place called Wasch-n-Fun, and I thought hey, it's Monday, I'm down for a good time.

For a while, it was just me and the furious sound of the washing machine. Like everything in Europe, washers and dryers are very small--like little R2D2s, with little buttons and knobs and strange, sad noises. My wash went through a lot in that hour. It started very gentle with a kitten-like kneading of the laundry. But after 45 minutes, the machine was shaking so furiously that my detergent was doing the Virginia Reel from corner to corner. I had no one to turn to to affirm the normality of the washer violence, as I can on airplanes during turbulence, when I gage my fear based on a rough evaluation of the other passengers' grips of their hand rests.

Student-types filtered in and out with their IKEA bags, sharing a smile which translated to "yeah, I ran out of underwear too."

Then, an older woman came in with a bouquet of flowers and began to pick up stray pieces of lint. I asked her if she needed help; she answered in muddled German, "no, we already have me, three Koreans and one Indian man working here."

So went my laundry experience. Not quite the romantic, meet-cute adventure you see in the movies, but at least I won't have to wear my bathing suit tomorrow.