Skip to Content, Navigation, or Footer.
We inform. You decide.
Wednesday, April 24, 2024

Around the corner from my apartment, there’s an orange-and-blue building with mirrored windows I often use for taking selfies. By now you’re probably thinking, “Wow, an orange-and-blue building in Gainesville? You’ve really narrowed it down.” Or maybe you’re saying to yourself, “This girl must be so bold, just taking selfies in windows when there could easily be people with eyes on the other side. I wish I had her gall.”

Thank you, thank you very much — but actually, no.

Up until last month, the building that provides the reflective glass was an EndZone; so needless to say, it was usually empty. Often, when I walked past, I’d wonder, “How the heck is this place still open?”

And then one day last month, while routinely joking that the place was being used for money laundering as I turned the corner at 12th Street and University Avenue, I saw that the header above EndZone read “closed.”

I don’t think anyone was surprised about the business closing. Its Yelp reviews boasted bad fries and available parking even on gameday — a true testament of communal dislike, or at least avoidance — in a sports-crazed college town.

Even still, it made me kind of sad because I wouldn’t be able to tell my money-laundering joke anymore. It also got me thinking about what sort of establishment would occupy the space next.

And maybe it was the joke or the pile of dirty clothes I had waiting for me that evening, but the perfect thing came to mind. The former EndZone should be turned into a bar laundromat because that’s just what the area is missing.

When I signed the lease for my apartment, I completely overlooked the fact that the place I’d committed to living in for the next year had no washer or dryer. I figured I would deal with the problem when I ran out of clean clothes, and when that day came, I realized it was a much bigger problem than I thought it’d be.

The only laundromats I’ve visited in town are sketchy, rundown and completely out of the way for anyone who doesn’t own a car.

The space at 12th and University is in the perfect location. It’s between Midtown and downtown and in close proximity to campus. Not only would it be convenient for students but also for working professionals in the area. And because doing laundry is probably not the most popular thing in the world, I don’t think anyone would object to having drinks and food at hand as a pick-me-up.

Convenience aside, this kind of setup offers a ton of creative possibilities. Think names, decor and culinary creativity — and, obviously, the babes you would meet.

Though I’m pretty sure the perfect bar laundromat name has already been taken by “The Bar of Soap” in Asheville, N.C., something like “Tidy Whiteys” or “Foam For Two” would work for the bar-meets-laundromat theme.

Enjoy what you're reading? Get content from The Alligator delivered to your inbox

I might be a little biased as far as my thoughts on the perfect use of the space since I don’t own a washer, but unless you belong to a nudist colony (in which case, I’m a little bit jealous), you’ll have to deal with washing clothes in public at one point or another, so we might as well make the experience as enjoyable as possible.

If you’re reading this, feel free to move forward with the idea. You don’t even have to thank me; providing a quality establishment would be thanks enough. You’re welcome.

[Marjorie Nunez is a UF journalism senior. Her columns appear on Fridays. A version of this column ran on page 6 on 3/28/2014 under the headline "Goodbye, EndZone; hello, tidy tighty whiteys"]

Support your local paper
Donate Today
The Independent Florida Alligator has been independent of the university since 1971, your donation today could help #SaveStudentNewsrooms. Please consider giving today.

Powered by SNworks Solutions by The State News
All Content © 2024 The Independent Florida Alligator and Campus Communications, Inc.