Laundromats, as a whole, exude a numbing bleakness. Generally dirty, overused, and overpriced, they squeeze money one quarter at a time from people poor enough to cry when they spill milk. However, in the towns of Southern Humboldt, washing ones’ dirty linen in public can be an edifying and amusing experience.

When young hill men come into large amounts of cash, they tend to tuck that spendy money into tight denim pockets so that it will be readily accessible. And being young and not overly careful, apparently sometimes they actually forget they have a thousand or two wadded up in their pants when they go to bed at night. They get up in the morning, throw their dirty clothes into large green garbage bags, and carry the whole thing to town in the back of their big brand new 4 wheel drive pickup trucks.

They saunter into the Laundromat and dump the bag (occasional marijuana leaves and all) into the wash machine. Apparently money when wet curls up as tight as a hibernating hedgehog but, once the clothes are transferred to the dryer and the money gets a wee bit dehydrated, it shakes free of petty restraints. Then the other Laundromat patrons are treated to the sight of a hundred twenty dollar bills fluttering against a big round dryer window. Like a flock of captive songbirds beating helplessly against a glass cage, the money will not quietly settle down. The hapless owner must make his way through a group of grinning guys (most of whom probably make their own wad of cashy dollars the same way he does) open the door, and thrust the quivering green creatures deep into his current pockets.

Fumbling awkwardly as he quickly bags up his now clean clothes, the young man blushes and drops money. The other fellows have no mercy though. At least one of the other guys is sure to snicker, “Dude, I don’t think you quite understand the concept of money laundering.”

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After reading Indie’s blog today and laughing, I couldn’t resist reposting this piece.