AIR THEFT is for CUCKOOS *True Story*

Let me tell you about the time another man stole air from me.

I was at a laundromat on Bathurst St in Toronto, taking care of that week's load of garments, while sitting on a chair in the alleyway out back. Below is a sketch that I made while waiting for my clothes to wash.

There wasn't much going on back there, until I noticed a somewhat, well, sketchy guy poke his head out of the laundromat door, look straight at me, then duck back inside very abruptly… Now there was obviously something quite strange about this fellow's behaviour to me, and so after tucking my sketchbook away, I decided to mosey on back inside and see if there was anything amiss.

Once I got inside I could see that the man was scoping out the place, until he noticed me in the back doorway. It was just me and him in the laundromat, and the whole situation felt really tense and awkward. I watched the man as he affected a sort of pretense of sauntering about, while making his way towards the front door. Once he got to the door he quickly slipped outside and took off down the street.

My first thought was: clothes thief. So I immediately checked the machine where my clothes were washing away, and after a few moments inspection found that nothing seemed to be missing. Of course my clothes weren't any kind of high end fashion designer stuff, but I still wanted to wear them again after taking them to the laundromat like that… Anyways he hadn't stolen my clothes.

Looking around the room, I tried to sort out what had just happened. I hadn't left a jacket or wallet or any valuables other than my laundry bag, and that was still there. Was it the change machine he was targeting? This as well appeared to be untouched.

I slammed the lid shut on my washing machine and started it back up, annoyed now with this guy and his odd behaviour. Now I had to stay inside and keep a watch on my clothes. Laundromats are terribly depressing places to hang out, and it was hot and stuffy in there, unlike the alley, where there was a cool breeze and shade from the sun.

Anyways I sat there and sulked away while my clothes finished washing, then made the switch to the dryer. After this was done I remembered that I'd wanted to run a few errands while the dryer was going, since that would take a good forty five minutes.

Now I was really irritated. And so I decided to do a recon to see if this guy was still hanging around anywhere nearby. Stepping outside I checked up and down the street, even spying some of the windows for a stray curtain pull or someone drawing back suddenly. Nothing. I got on my bike and did a quick circle around the block and through the alley. When I got back everything was as it had been…

After thinking it over for a few moments I came to the conclusion that the guy was probably gone - off to stalk around some other place to find whatever it was he'd been looking for. And I knew I wouldn't be too long anyways; just a quick skip on my bike down to Honest Ed's for some household items that I needed. Back in fifteen.

After getting on my bike I took one last look around. Everything seemed fine. No problem. I took off down the street.

Of course I ended up taking longer than I'd intended. After getting the things I need at Honest Ed's I remember walking past the men's clothing section and thinking I might have to return here sooner than I wanted… On a side note: a good fifteen years ago I bought this microfiber shirt from Honest Ed's, and it's still holding up fine - other than a tear underneath the back collar from it getting snagged on something sharp, not even visible when the collar is down - and in every other way the shirt is in perfect condition; not a loose stitch or frayed edge on the entire garment. They sold good product at Honest Ed's. I'm gonna miss the place.

After exiting onto Markham St, I just had to make a quick check of the Beguiling book shop; it was right next door back then (the Beguiling is now on College). After that I hopped back on my bike and hurried back to the laundromat, three blocks north of Bloor St.

I locked up my bike and checked my watch - still five minutes to go. When I walked inside I noticed a young woman off to the side, filling a machine. This gave me a momentary reassurance until I looked towards the back door and saw the guy.

He was piling clothes into a basket from atop a dryer just a few down from my own, the whole time stealing glances my way. My heart sank in my chest. Were those my clothes? Obviously I had to do something. So I steeled my nerve and walked straight up to him, just as he'd finished filling his basket and was gripping the sides with his hands, about to turn and walk out the back door. I stopped directly in front of him and looked him in the eye.

This guy's eyes were practically bugging out of his face as he stared back at me. He looked absolutely petrified, and moreover, he looked guilty. He looked caught.

I directed my gaze down to his basket.

They weren't my clothes. They were men's clothes, but the colours, the styles… not mine.

I looked back up at him with what was likely a quizzical expression on my face. He continued to stare like a deer in the headlights, but a sort of relief was starting to settle into his expression.

Abruptly I turned away from him and quickly stepped over to my own dryer, squatting down to open it and peer inside. All of my clothes appeared to be there. The pile didn't look any lighter. But something wasn't right about any of this.

I looked up to see the man ducking out the back entrance. On an impulse I bolted to my feet and rushed to the door.

The alleyway was empty. That dude was gone - he must have sprinted away with his basket. For a second I considered pursuit, but decided that I didn't want to leave my clothes unattended. Maybe he had a... partner? The young woman? What the hell was going on here?

I stepped back into the laundromat, thoughts spinning through my head. For the first time I considered that maybe the guy was acting this way because he was mentally disturbed and had been afraid of me for some imaginary reason. Had I just harassed and driven off a vulnerable and innocent man?

The dryer sat with its door ajar, beckoning to me. Something told me that the answer lay here. As I approached the appliance I thought: had this dryer been running when I just now opened it? Because there would have been five minutes left on the time, and I was pretty sure that it had not been running at all.

I pressed my hand over the top of the dryer. Warm, but not very. Pretty cool, actually… Then I looked at the timer. Seven minutes left.

Slowly, I bent down and pulled the dryer door fully open, then reached inside and felt my clothes. They were still wet.

It was while I was piling my wet clothes onto the top of the dryer that I finally put it all together. The guy had subbed out my clothes for his own.

Remember what I wrote about stealing air? Well obviously you can't literally steal air from anyone because air is free, and a good thing at that. But you can steal the heated air produced by a dryer from the one who paid for it. And that was what this guy had done to me, used my dryer air to dry his clothes in the place of my own.

Well obviously after my clothes had been handled by an unscrupulous stranger I had to wash them all over again, and while doing this I sat right in front of the machine, watching the clothes spinning around and wondering to myself… Of all the annals of petty crime this had to be the strangest I'd ever encountered. The guy was a laundry cuckoo.

Think about the dedication and risk involved. He'd been smart enough to switch it back seven minutes before the end of the cycle, but what if I'd come back earlier? He'd probably been watching from the window, but what if I'd returned through the alley? It seemed like a crazy risk to take just to dry some clothes for free. Was he desperately poor or just doing it for the thrill?

I imagined the guy going back and forth to check the front, check the alley, check the front… With that kind of effort I was surprised he hadn't stolen his own washer and dryer by now. This got me thinking about getting ahold of an old school washing tub with the scrubbing rack and some Borax.

Seemed to me that doing my own laundry by hand would be less trouble than this nonsense.

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The image below bears only a tangential similarity to the story above, but I decided to include it for fun. It is titled: INTERDIMENSIONAL SOCK WORMHOLE and you can get it as a print right here.

Writing and images by Greg McCann, the author of this post and owner of this Steemit Channel. To view more of my work, please visit www.fireawaymarmot.com.