Stuff Happens To People With Blogs

… except if you’re in Frankfurt on a Sunday and desperate.

With Jackson feeling somewhat unwell, we simply left our hotel and headed for the train station where we were catching a three hour train to Frankfurt.  It is quite interesting to see groups of drunken youths being casually eyed off by police, kit out in full riot gear, at 11am on a Sunday morning in a smallish German town.  We figured out that there was a football game on somewhere so I guess it’s just a normal Sunday for the police to wake up strap on their shinpads, helmets, bullet-proof vests and large wackin’ sticks.

The primary task for our day was to check into our hotel and head straight for a laundromat.  Having reached our “alert levels” of clothing, ie, underwear for just the next day we were somewhat dismayed when our concierge said, “The laundromat is over there but I doubt they’ll be open, it’s Sunday”. 

Given the urgency of our situation, we packed a bag of grungy clothes and headed off determined that this laundry would be open.  We quickly realised that our hotel was situated just near a red-light district and the laundromat was smack bang in the middle of it.  Is it wrong to stare at the men who wander out of dodgy den doorways putting their jackets on?  I think not, they deserve my stares.

We found the laundromat … it was closed.