My associate and I walked into The House of Dank, a Reedsport pot shop, the original Reedsport pot shop. She wanted to load up for her Oregon sojourn.
We entered an old building that seemed spent. The streets and sidewalks around it were torn up for some Reedsport beautification project. They might better beautify Reedsport if they removed all the Trump chainsaw sculptures littering the downtown. But leave the one with his tiny penis.
We struck up a conversation with the two pot purveyors. They gave us the lowdown on the building and the pot business in Reedsport. The building was once a bank, whorehouse and Chinese restaurant. A cannabis chain had invaded Reedsport in recent months and was employing the Wal-Mart strategy: slash prices, incur losses, wait, and then put the independent, locally-owned retailer out of business. I asked the purveyors if they thought their regulars would stay loyal. They thought they would.
My associate delighted in the House of Dank’s funky product line and the sheer preposterousness of the shop’s name. She went whole hog and maxed her limit. But there were two of us so I “bought” my max limit, too. I asked if they offered a senior discount. They did—10%. I said I just turned 55. Did I qualify? Yes, I did. It was the first time I’d ever asked for a senior discount and the occasion was buying pot in Reedsport’s House of Dank with a woman who was in love with Oregon and had just seen elk and sheets of rain.
As a crazy, drunk man once told me in an Oregon campground, “Don’t get no more Oregon than that.”
Actually it did, after she got stoned and we saw a river otter run across the highway and dive into a flooded pasture.