So I wanted to drink a 40. Not just any 40, you understand, but a Mickey’s. Big green bottle of delicious memories. Good times in college, sitting on the roof and drinking 40s. Occasionally throwing 40s off the roof into the neighbors drive-way, though always with good intentions. Mickey’s reminds me of my friends, and so I wanted to drink one.
Now. The liquor laws in Oregon are quite a bit more relaxed than in Minnesota, namely you can buy real beer in corner markets and gas stations, and also on Sunday. It’s a beautiful thing. So with visions of delicious malt liquor in a big green bottle dancing in my head, I made my way onto the street and over to my favorite little bodega.
No 40s. Plenty of beer and wine, but no 40s of any variety. So I go to the little Korean market in Old Town, a couple blocks over. Same deal. No Mickey’s. The Greek Market and Middle Eastern Joint don’t have the big green bottles either. Finally, over at the Yamhill Market, a toothless wonder of an old man tells me that the Portland Police request that the little markets don’t sell malt liquor in downtown. Nothing official, mind you, just a polite understanding between business and law enforcement.
I got a six pack of Icehouse tall boys for 5 bones, it just wasn’t the same.