Bar of soap

Duds ’n’ Suds is the place for mixing domestic chores with booze

B y Je R i Ch A dwell- s i NG ley

Bar of soap

I enjoyed a Lagunitas IPA while washing my clothes. or years, I only ever cleaned my house while FFinebriated. And why not? Once a week, I would put on my headphones, crank some tunes and treat the house like my private club—dance with the mop; have a drink, dance with the vacuum; have another drink.

I haven’t done this in years, but I was reminded of it when I heard about a local place that’s been mixing domestic work with pleasure for three decades now.

I read about Duds ’n’ Suds last October in an article from the Guardian. Discussing politics had been banned there after an argument about the election led to a fist fight at one of the two locations. That sounds like a bar problem, right? Well, Duds ’n’ Suds is a bar—kind of anyway.

According to a YouTube video featuring the stores’ owner, Duds ’n’ Suds opened in 1986. The slogan on the sign is “We make laundry fun!” And

I’d seen the signs before, near Meadowood Mall and at the intersection of Clearacre and

McCarran, but I had no idea that inside each of the laundromats was small bar serving up beverages, snacks and beer.

After reading about the scuffle, I made a mental note to go there sometime—after the election. The opportunity presented itself on a recent

Tuesday evening.

I chose the location on the south end of town and arrived shortly before 7 p.m.—my camera, notebook, laundry and mother in tow.

Inside, the air was warm and smelled pleasantly of laundry soap and fabric softener. There were a dozen or so people milling around the machines and sitting at the small bar in the back. In one corner, children played arcade games.

On the TV, Trump addressed Congress. I ordered a Lagunitas IPA and fished out cash and my driver’s license. The woman behind the bar studied it for a few minutes, longer, in fact, than I can recall anyone studying my ID.

“She’s only 12,” said the man seated next me. I secretly hate it when people joke about how young

I look, especially now that I’m in my 30s, but I laughed and smiled anyway. After receiving my beer,

I went to break $5 in the change machine and start my laundry.

“Here, I said, handing my camera to Mom. “Take pictures of me.”

“Just loading the washing machine?” she asked.

“Yeah, loading the washing machine while drinking a beer.”

The wash cycle took 26 minutes. We sat at the bar and studied the signs and made small talk with the bartender and other patrons. Trump gesticulated in that signature manner of his—blessedly inaudible on the quiet TV and looking for all the world like an agitated, orange mime. Soon, I found myself contemplating the singular experience of quaffing beers from a bar stool while my clothes were on the rinse cycle a few feet away. The big question I pondered: Is Duds ’n’ Suds a bar with laundry facilities or a laundromat with beer and food—a laundrobar or a baromat? In the “it’s a bar” column, there is, of course, the beer—and the bar and the bar stools and the bar snacks and the bartender. There’s the TV and the free wifi. And there’s the bevy of little plaques and handwritten signs one expects to find in among the décor at a neighborhood watering hole. The laminated list of house rules is taped to the wall. Number six notes that “Everything is use at your own risk, including the Is Duds ’n’ Suds a bar bartenders.” But many of the rules with laundry facilities apply to the laundromat side of things, including or a laundromat with the notice that refunds are given “only for mechanibeer and food—a cal failures ... human fails laundrobar or a fall into the category of pointing and laughing” baromat? and that unattended children will be “given to the Goblin King.” (The world has gone mad and your lawyers are seeking your love children, but may your rest in peace, David Bowie.) Other things go in the “it’s a laundromat” column, too. For one thing, there’s the restrooms. They’re spotless—much cleaner than any I’ve seen in any bar anywhere. Duds ’n’ Suds has another thing that separates it from other bars. There’s a three-drink limit. To me, that sounds like a common sense rule. Otherwise, people might get too drunk and wind up barfing in a washing machine, right? And I was certainly feeling the single beer I’d downed by the time I put my clothes in the dryer. In fact, I put the clothes in the top dryer but fed my quarters into the bottom one. It took longer than I’d like to admit to realize my mistake. And it earned me a bit more good-natured ribbing from my new drinking/laundering buddies. Ω There are two Duds ’n’ Suds locations: 2900 Clear Acre Lane, 786-7837; and 5890 S. Virginia St., 8258850. Both are open from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m..