M beat me to it by letting me know on Facebook that he had our laundry. So, we went to the bar to pick up our laundry.
The second place we rented in Key West had an old coin washing machine and dryer, which was often not working. We opted, for $2 a load more, to bring our laundry to someone else, at a well known laundromat that also houses a walk-up sandwich shop. B dropped it off in the morning and picked it up the same afternoon - clean, fresh laundry smell, and already folded. I was quite reluctant to have someone else do my laundry - it seemed so extravagant. I got over that.
The woman who washed everyone’s clothes had accidentally given ours to M. He had thrown it into the back of a friend’s car and forgotten about it, until he went to find something to wear. Luckily he 1) could read B’s handwriting on the bag, and 2) knew who’s laundry he had. He carried our three loads to Finnegan’s that night. I still demanded my underwear back, and the bag sat on a chair next to us for the evening - like our new fresh-smelling sober friend.
This is something I miss about Key West. No, not picking up my laundry at the bar. But, that we knew who had our laundry, and M knew who’s underwear he had. This has happened to other people too, and they always seem to know who has their clothes. And, even with all the underwear mix-ups, we all kept bringing our clothes back. It’s no real hassle when you know who has your clothes, or you know someone, who knows someone who has your clothes. No one is really bothered by it.
This is what I miss: that it is the kind of place you can track down your missing clothes at the local’s bar; that no one is so uptight to get angry that their clothes were given to someone else. And that you can get one of the best Cuban sandwiches on the island at the laundromat.