Washer E is the nastiest skank bitch I have ever met! jk, it’s my fault, oops

McBain Burn Book pg E

There were 27 minutes left on my load of laundry as I greeted my dorm’s door. Just as I touched the handle, my body went cold. Chills of dread ran down my spine…

I left my second favorite AirPod in my jacket—the jacket that I was now washing in 562 W 113th St, New York, NY 10025, first floor, Washer E…

Sprinting so fast I left a cartoonish blur behind me, I flew to the elevators. Ding. The doors open to reveal my friend and her boyfriend, and at that moment, I remember that it is Valentine’s Day and that I had sent my headphones to her deathbed. Imagining my right AirPod snuggled in the pocket, suddenly caught off guard by a violent influx of water and combustion of my lavender tide pod, was a strike through my heart.

The elevator slowly crept toward the first floor, finally arriving a business day later. The doors whipped open, and I cut right so swiftly that I felt a track career whispering in my ear, tempting me. I gently opened the laundry room door, OF COURSE, because someone evil nearly pancaked me between the door and the wall, flinging it open in a hurry.

My washer reads “24”, so 19-29 minutes left.

All I hear is a faint bang every few seconds, but otherwise, no other news, good or bad. I frantically search for a “cancel cycle” button, but unfortunately, to no avail.

Gripping the handle with all of my might, I yanked on the handle, only to tire myself out after 10 seconds. Anxious and shaking, I called “Friendly Furnald” (Furnald Hospitality has no ring to it, in my opinion). Thankfully, someone answered.

I explained the situation, but something was happening to the audio… For some reason, I had to continuously put my phone on speaker to hear them; it was almost like something was connecting to my call…

Then, chill #2 ran down my spine. 

My right AirPod was trying to reach out to me. She was connecting to let me know she was there, although it was a blessing and a curse. I knew she still worked, but there were still 20 minutes left. I was proud of her, though. In her last moments, she was choosing to speak up for herself and tell her side of the story to the hospitality desk. 

Bluetooth off, I pleaded with hospitality, begging her to tell me that there was some way for them to stop a cycle halfway through. 

She responded, “I think there is a way, just pull really hard. And if that doesn’t work, push in and yank the door as hard as you can”. 

I pride myself on being a fairly handy person, having fixed many things around my house, and I knew that this wasn’t going to work. Front-load washers like this have mechanisms to prevent flooding, ensuring that you don’t just spill all of your soapy water and laundry on the floor by opening the door casually before the cycle completes. And, not to be all scientific, but I heard that door lock when I started the load. I am not stronger than a washer lock. Slightly irritated, I heard her out.

Thankfully, because it was the night of Valentine’s Day, most people had plans, so nobody was graced with the sight of me desperately yanking the handle of Washer E, pushing in, and then pulling out with whatever body strength I had left from my high school volleyball career. Let me just say, this method was not a spike.

I informed the hospitality desk clerk that it did not work.

She replied, “Yeah, I think that McBain has front-load washers that don’t work that way.”

Right. 

Right. Okay. Right. So, okay. Cool. Good to know. 

Realizing the position that I was in, I sulked my way back upstairs to ride out the rest of the storm (18 min) in my room. I was too scared to stay and see my right AirPod pass away, and I knew that watching without being able to do anything would drive me bananas. 

In that time, I stalked the Find My app to see when she last connected, whilst monitoring the Speed Queen app to ensure I was on the site, immediately ready to get into action once the cycle completed.

Then, my go team and I sprinted down to assess the damages. All seemed well: my right AirPod looked squeaky clean, and there was also a coin from my pocket. Both presented themselves so nicely in the front plastic tray. I would like to say that my AirPod missed me, but it felt more like a taunt.

Resting her on a microfiber cloth, I gave her 28 hours to recover and, by some miracle, she made it!

Against all odds, I washed my AirPod in Washer E, and she survived. :) So I don’t 100% hate that washer, just like 80% for the scare! Anyways, it is possible to have an AirPod survive a 30-minute wash!

Header via Author