There is an ancient mariner's tale that any sailor associated with the number 6-8-8 will face a perilous and stormy voyage. You can be sure that was on my mind as I drew laundry ticket #688 today as I turned in my laundry bag. Although in all truth, the curse of the 688 is not that old - its roots can be traced back to 1972, although some would say the curse truly began in 1976. It is also more of a submariner's tale, and is actually localized to those who have served on the USS Los Angeles, SSN 688. I guess I share the tale of my ominous laundry ticket more to fill blog space and let you in on a little slice of my day.
I've been meaning to write about laundry for some time now because dropping off my laundry is one of those little pastimes that fills my day that has not yet traveled the information super-highway. The same KBR that runs the DFAC runs the laundry, so it is one of the smoother operations on base. By the letter of the law you are only allowed to turn in 20 items at a time (a pair of socks counts as a single item), but the Albanian and Macedonian guys who run the joint are generally pretty lenient and will let you turn in a few extra if you waive the optional inventory that many people do while dropping off laundry but no one does while picking up. Even though the laundry area is the most fly dense place besides the port-a-johns, the laundry guys are usually pretty cheerful and have taught me how to say hello and thank you in Macedonian (merditha and falmanderit). I guess I am the only one who has asked where they are from and talk to them while turning my laundry in, because now they laugh and say merditha before I walk up. Little do they know that the only reason I ask where they are from is so that I can better stereotype them and put them in a box based on incomplete knowledge and prejudice (not really - just wondered where they were from), but it has taught me a couple of new words.
