On How the Universe Will Bite You in the Ass Every Time

I was a freshman in theatre school.  Never trust a first year theatre student.

I was having one of those days.  I just wanted to be left alone.

I needed clean clothes.

So I was sitting in the local laundromat, waiting for said clean clothes, reading and thinking about the first year language requisite I was taking – Russian, because by the time I’d gotten the call to tell me my audition had been successful, all the ‘normal’ language classes were full.

That’s when I noticed that the laundromat lady was a little crazy.

Okay, maybe ‘crazy’ is a bit harsh.  The laundromat lady was… ‘special.’  And I didn’t feel like making small talk with her. 

But sure enough, she was headed my way. 

I can’t remember the icebreaker she used to start being my ‘friend’, but I do remember what I said.   In a heavy Slavic accent, “So sorry…do not spik…Inglis…ya styudenka pa Rusky…” 

Laundromat-lady’s face lit up like she’d just discovered diamonds in someone’s pockets.  She nodded and smiled and left me alone.   I buried my face back in my script.

A few minutes later, I heard her speaking to her replacement prey.  “See that cute little girl over there?  She’s from Russia!” 

It hadn’t occurred to me that I was going to want to wash my clothes there for the rest of the school year.   I became so good at the accent, I minored in Russian the following year.