We are on the 14th floor, and the laundry is on the bottom floor.
Well, not the VERY bottom basement floor, because that is a gym (I’ve heard), but it is on the ground floor.
Which means that I have to cart all of our dirty laundry down the elevator, across the lobby, and into the laundry room. Then pay $2.80 a wash and $2.80 a dry, and cart it all back up to our room.
This opens the door for what can possibly be a very awkward situation.
Can you guess what it is?
Underwear elevator awkwardness.
Let me tell you more, because it just happened to me last night.
After picking up our massive pile of laundry and loading it into our stroller (which I use to transport it), I wheeled my way to the elevator.
I was followed by a young, muscular English gentleman with HIS laundry basket. (Not CUTE, Brian, just young, muscular, and English).
The elevator opened and in we went. Then, they shut.
And we were alone.
And I was inches away from his underwear.
Not just any underwear- about 10 miniscule, shiny black briefs!
I looked at them, then looked away. He saw me look at them, and look away.
Oh, the awkwardness!
Then, I realized, Wait a minute! He is inches away from my underwear too!
And yes indeedy, there was the telltale hot pink color of a pair of my undies, shining like a beacon amidst all of the other blue colored clothing.
He looked at them, then looked away. I saw him look at them and look away.
He pushed the button for the 16th floor,
And the elevator began its extremely slow climb.
So,here I am, basically married to this stranger on the elevator (doesn’t seeing someone’s underwear = marriage? My dad is SUPER happy to hear me say that…) and standing in complete silence.
Which means- yes, you guessed it- here comes the awkward babbling!
“The laundry here still is expensive! Haha.” I start.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Where are you from?” (hear the accent Caitlin? England, obviously)
“Ah. That’s cool! Haha. Haha. Haha.”
He decides to jump in on the awkward-action “I know this looks like a lot of underpants, but I just leave the laundry in this basket, and wash all of it once a week.”
“Oh, ha ha.”
“Yeah, so most of it is still probably clean. I should probably just put it away when I get to my room.”
“Haha. Yeah, I used to do that sometimes when I was in high school.”
Which I MEANT to convey a kind of camaraderie- as in, don’t feel bad, I used to do that too.
But what really came across was, yes, I used to do that too…IN HIGH SCHOOL you loser!
At this point we both gave up and opted for silence and averted glances.
Finally, FINALLY, the 14th floor came around and I began to make my escape.
The man called out, “Cheers!” as I was leaving
I hear that a lot around here- it is an English thing?- and I am never sure how to respond.
Saying “Cheers” back seems pretentious and fake, but saying “Goodbye!” sound like I am ignoring their cheers, so…
“Thanks!” I call back.
Just about the most awkward choice out there.
Thanks for the elevator date, baby. And nice briefs!