There is a small closet in the hotel lobby with a washer and dryer inside. A Chinese couple stands silently behind the machines. I ask if it is okay to wash my clothes. They nod. I lean down to put my clothes into the washer and a copper pipe starts shooting water into my right eye. The woman apologizes, and the man caps the pipe.
Panties Fine
I am visiting an old friend. Over dinner, her husband makes reference to the “PF” she has under her skirts. She blushes purple and leaves the table. I imagine unruly leg hair or a penis. I ask her what “PF” means. She takes a deep breath, and shows me what she describes as her DEEPEST SECRET SHAME. It is a box of disposable underpants, 30 in a box, for $7. The name on the box says PANTIES FINE.
Panties Fine
Stairwell
I am a young businesswoman on my way to an important meeting. I step through a door and come out three hundred years ago in a stairwell, where a man yells to alert the authorities. They arrest me as an escaped slave. I can see there is absolutely no point in trying to explain who I really am, so I go quietly.
Stairwell