1950 Memories of Suburban Adventures

Home » 13 - Fancy Free (1966) » Walk On The Wet Side » Walk On The Wet Side

Walk On The Wet Side

Singing in the rain is great, but not if the big wet spot on your pants is pee instead of rain drops.

My cousin and I spent the weekend at Bochi’s. My cousin’s name is Mary Ellen and mine is Mary Barbara, not to be confused with cousins Barbara Kay, Barbara Ann, or Ann Shirley. We simplified things by going by DeeDee and Mimi. It sounded much cooler, too.

DeeDee and I decided to shrink our jeans so they’d fit tighter before going to the Jaycee Center that evening. Not wanting to inconvenience Bochi, we walked several blocks and made our first visit to a Laundromat.

The owner painted the Laundromat’s exterior bubblegum-pink, but didn’t believe in color for the interior. The walls, ceiling, and machines were dirty white, with a gray cement floor. Odors of bleach and mildew coexisted.

DeeDee loaded the washer while I purchased soap. The soap dispenser was a rip-off. I paid one price for two small boxes of detergent, whether I wanted two or not. I turned a box over and around; no directions anywhere. The soap was totally different from what we used at home.

“Hey Deed, how much soap should I use?”

“How would I know?” she answered.

A running dryer indicated another customer had recently vacated the premises, leaving no one from which to obtain washing instructions. DeeDee and I were on our own.

I sprinkled a box of flakes onto our jeans. Hmmm, it’d be a shame to waste the extra box of detergent.

The Laundromat was empty, so we amused ourselves by singing silly songs, dancing, and making each other laugh. Our variety show abruptly halted as a river of foamy soap suds bubbled out of our washer.

www.picturesof.net We found out that this really does happen!

We found out that this really does happen!

“Oh my gosh,” screamed DeeDee. “What do we do?”

A pair of forgotten long-johns lay wadded in a corner. I grabbed them by their leg cuffs and swatted the growing suds. Bubbles flew in all directions. Deed found part of a newspaper and helped swat the frothy mix. We laughed until we cried.

Suddenly, I stopped laughing.

“What’s wrong?” asked Deed.

“I laughed so hard I peed my shorts,” I answered.

“Oh good, because I did too,” she said.

I’m not sure why, but misery sure does like company. And peed shorts when you’re a teenage girl is misery.

Our finished load of wash sizzled from excess soap and bubbles. We determined the overflowing suds weren’t our fault and must be a common occurrence, because a shallow trough leading to a drain was carved into the cement floor.

“Holy cow! We’re like Lawrence Welk,” I said. “We made our own bubble machine.”

“I’d say we’re more like Lucy and Ethel,” replied Deed.

Using up our dryer money, we ran our sudsy jeans through a second wash cycle with no need for additional detergent.

We began the walk back to Bochi’s with our doubly-washed jeans rolled into wet balls tucked under our arms.

A misty rain fell, but wasn’t heavy enough to disguise our peed shorts.

“I’d rather look stupid than gross,” I said and tied my light-weight jacket around my waist. Deed followed suit.

www.dressmeblog.me This is what we wished we looked like!

This is what we wished we looked like!

Turning with my back to Deed, I asked, “Can you see my pee spot?”

“Nope,” She answered. “Can you see mine?”

“You’re okay.”

Bochi sat on her porch glider, enjoying the summer shower. She shook her head as we walked up the front steps.

“Why do you girls walk in the rain with your jackets tied like skirts?”

Too embarrassed to admit we peed our shorts, we answered, “We’re hot.”

Bochi continued shaking her head. In addition to using our grandmother’s dryer to dry our very clean jeans, we used her washer for our peed shorts and contaminated jackets.

On the way home from the Jaycee Center we laughed about our Laundromat mishap. In silly moods, we made up words to Tip Toe Through The Tulips and acted out our lyrics. Our favorite was scuba-diving through the tulips.

Lesson Learned: Old ladies aren’t the only ones to have little accidents.

Now it’s your turn: Did you ever overflow a washer or your pants?

© Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures, 2012 forward. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


  1. suzjones says:

    Nope. Even us middle aged ones do. 😉
    Great read once again.

  2. Robert says:

    It never ceases to amaze me how you can make me smile and feel better after a hard day or week with one of your stories. You have lived such a rich and colourful life! You really need to collect these stories and make a book. The world is about due for some lighthearted 50’s comedic genius. The Wonder Years was the last one. 1950’s Suburban Adventures could and should be the next.
    Thanks for the good feelings, Mary.

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Thanks, Robert. I’ll look into an e-book when I get finished with the 60s.
      I’ve always said that every life would make a great story if we stopped and looked at all the stories in it.

  3. chsuresh63 says:

    Nope Mary! Every life would make a great story, not merely if we stopped and looked, but are also capable of narrating it as well as you do.

  4. spunkybong says:

    You peed? I used to burp if I laughed too hard. I still do. Don’t tell me, I know. I am gross. 🙂

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      I could never make myself burp, Spunky. About once or twice a year a burp would magically fall out, usually at inopportune times. My Pookie’s claim to fame is that he taught me how to burp. So you aren’t gross, you’re gifted!

  5. Mimmy Jain says:

    Oh how many times! My bladder and I have never learnt to coexist. Lovely read, Mary!

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