Magic Gardens


In the hoppinest neo-frisco current flavor-of-the-week urban renewal project section of portland called the "pearl district" or "chinatown" (used to be called junkyville or gook village before gentrification, hang onto your fuckin wallet!), nestled between the ample, loving bosoms of sparkling new high-rise high-density housing and old remodeled warehouses posing as living spaces, sits a demure semi-discreet lair known as

Just the other side of skid row, where the Union Gospel Mission and Salvation Army dole out some tasty treats to the less fortunate, and the Jefferson Theater has *two* screens of porn to spank to, this is where the needle freaks and nickel bag hoes that are too good for the Sandy Jug (see other portland sleaze bars) go to die. Drinks and beer are shitty and expensive, and the room reeks of bodily fluids of an indiscriminate (as well as indescribable) nature. The only reason to go there is it's en route to better destinations from the cheap parking lot on the other side of the building...which mysteriously always has spaces available. For some reason I've always hated parking there, but it's convenient and nothing has happened to *my* far. It's marginally better than being on the street when you have an hour to kill before whatever you were going downtown to do in the first place starts up.

If you're looking to buy some baking soda laden crack, or shoot some cheap smack with a shared needle, this is the place for you! Watch out for disheveled people who look like they have no place to go stopping you and asking for directions, a sure sign that cupped in the other palm is a rusty shiv made from wire hangers or aluminum siding wating to assist in the liberation of your dinero. Fortunately the heavy drugs and low nutritional value of the average addict's diet makes them pushovers, so as long as you're paying attention, it's usually a non-issue.

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