I really bloody hate laundromats. I've been lucky in that almost all my life I've had a washer and dryer in my home.
The one time I didn't was our first apartment in Portland, and we had a laundry room just downstairs from the apartment. Because it wasn't a public facility, it was never crowded and you only had to deal with people who lived in the same apartment complex, i.e. people of approximately the same socioeconomic status. Sure, you had assorted etiquette lapses, but mostly it wasn't much different than having it at home. The only times I've ever had to deal with laundromats are when I have something that doesn't fit in the washer at home, or when I've been traveling.
Take today, for example. My
The problem with laundromats is that the people who go there are generally the ones who can't afford to live in a place that has a washer and dryer. They frequently bring their kids with them, since they may well be single parents or otherwise don't have anyone to take care of the spawn. And while some of them are perfectly reasonable, said chilluns are often not the model of decorum and manners. Running through the aisles, shrieking, throwing things, and knocking things over seem to be par for the course.
On the best of trips, I wind up spending an hour and a half with people who look at me like I'm a Martian because I have a laptop with me. Most of the time I also get couples fighting with each other, people who think it's perfectly OK to come in and check the dryer with cigarettes dangling from their mouths, people who forgot to bathe this week, the woman eating greasy pizza and wiping her fingers on her pants, and other assorted high-class citizenry. Oh, and the kids. Like the ones who just knocked over the laundry cart.