I've had some time off for a while. My apologies for neglecting this blog for a bit.
I've been staying with a friend recently. Unfortunately, her washer is broken at the moment. Two nights ago, she said "I'm going to the laundromat."
I'm a habitual laundry procrastinator. Due to that, as well as the fact that I still had clean clothes for a day or so, I almost put off doing laundry for one more day. But, no, the thought of freshly washed undies, one day early, was too sweet.
We got to the laundromat and set up shop. We waited for the washer/dryers to work their magic. (Holy fuppety! They self-load the detergent!) I sat chatting on IM and playing Bejeweled Blitz on my iPhone, while wishing I remembered to bring a book; Megan read the one she brought. About halfway through the spin-cycle, Megan rose to call her mom. She suddenly looked a little perturbed. "There's a guy outside with his thing out..." I looked up at her in shock. Surely she didn't mean.... No, she did mean that.
It happened quickly. Megan narrated the whole scene for me. In truth, I was too scared to look. I didn't want to give him the attention he obviously sought. It was just Megan and I there, so, I tried my best to stay cool. Apparently, I did a much better job than I initially thought, since Megan reported later that I did look calm.
Apparently, he exposed himself for a while, then he masturbated for some time, then he just shook himself around for a bit. (Again, this was happening rapidly; much faster than I'm making it sound). We were trying to discuss what we should do. He started walking toward the door. I called the police. Once he saw my phone, he bolted.
Telling the police "There's a man outside with his penis hanging out" was an interesting start. I'm certain I've learned the clinical word for penis before, but I don't exactly have the chance to use it all that often. I could only think of a juvenile word for it. It was the equivalent of saying "A man has his wee-wee sticking out." It was so embarrassing! (Editor's note: I have since learned that the word in question both carries a childish and lurid connotation). I figured, "I'm a foreigner; at least they can understand me. It's better than if I didn't know the word at all. What if I hadn't?"
The police came in less than ten minutes. There were three officers; two male, one female. Megan and I had the impression that they brought the young, female one for our sake, which we much appreciated. They asked us questions. Megan described the person to the best of her ability. Unfortunately, the laundromat had a thick (and one thin) stripe painted along all the windows, which hit right where his face was. It seems like they were actually put there for the privacy of the laundry patrons. They were unfortunately a bit too effective.
She couldn't describe his face, but knew that he had no hair. He also fashioned a short, denim skirt from jeans for the occasion. Yes, that's right, this guy wasn't just a flasher, he was an industrious one. He actually went out and made Flashwear! (Yeah... I joke now, but, given that there was a man in there with us, just a few minutes prior, and a bit after, it did seem like he was out there waiting for the two girls to be on their own. That was a bit disturbing). Beyond Megan's description, we acted out our reaction to the matter.
The officers told us to stay put while they drove around and looked for him. After about 30 minutes, they came back. They hadn't found him. They asked for another account of what we saw and how we reacted. They told us that if they figured out anything, they'd let us know. Then, they gave us a ride home, which we happily accepted.
On the way to the car, we pointed out that there was a video camera outside, which he would have walked directly in front of, according to Megan. They did not seem particularly interested, which bothered us. I'm hoping that they only reacted that way to not rile us up or raise our hopes.
If either of us need clean clothes again before Megan's washer is fixed, they're going in the sink.