One of the nice things about traveling to Anglers Inn International’s properties is that they launder your clothes every day. Remove one item of clothing from your luggage and you can stow away a few more packs of Senkos. Drop another pair of shorts or shirt and there’s room for another big crankbait or several more topwaters. It is, in the truest sense, addition by subtraction. I’m pretty sure that I could’ve made it through last week at El Salto with two pairs of shorts, two pairs of boxers, two shirts and two Buffs, although I’ve not yet had the cojones to pack that lightly.
Compounding the benefit of their daily laundry service is the fact that they use the best-smelling detergent on earth. I don’t know if I’d be quite as fond of it if we used it in the states, or if it’s truly a matter of the fact that I associate it with some of the happiest times of my life. I’m sure that the latter factors into it at least slightly, as shown by the fact that I drool like one of Dr. Pavlov’s dogs when I smell it.
While my trip is over and I have to wait seven months to get that fresh smell again, I’ll gladly take whatever reminders I can get. At some point in the next few weeks I’ll pull a shirt over my head, or – better yet – pull a Buff over my face – and immediately be transported back to the land of Pacificos, carne asada and big bass.
My friend Cisco Sevilla takes it one step further after his annual trip to El Salto. After the last round of clothes are washed, he places them in a tightly sealed bag, and then transports it home to Australia. Every few months, when he’s jonesing for a fix of Mexico, he quickly opens the bag, sticks his nose to it, inhales deeply, and then seals it back up for a month or two, until he can’t stand it anymore.
I’m not there yet, but I’m not far behind.
It’s not just rooting for laundry. It’s laundry as a source of life-sustaining nutrition.