I finally made the effort to step inside the doors of Amoeba this week. I knew from the bricks and mortar it held much excitement. I got a parking spot right out front of the neighboring McDonald's where many angry bums loitered. Not quite the crowd I am used to seeing outside of music stores, but I was not deterred. Fed the meter, strapped the whiny boy into the stroller, adjusted my maternity skirt and went in.
We were met with the traditional bag check-in, only it was a major operation manned with at least 4 guys. All of which had tattoos that immediately reminded me I am missing out on some good concerts this summer.
The Peg Perego led my way, pulling me down a ramp into the arms of magnificent rows of used CDS for $3. They were not in order and someone was wiggling the more I stood in one spot. I strolled along, completely aware we were the only wheels in the joint. The girl with black, thick bangs and lots of black eye liner smirked at my son. That made me feel less clumsy as I knocked into people making my way to the imports.
It's exactly as I hoped, but better. Rolling along ROCK labeled rows I found bands I forgot I loved, new ones I have vaguely heard of, and only a few I despise. I took a moment to flip through the ones I know and found pleasure discovering Ivy has 2 CDS I don't own; I never knew those existed.
I could really spend a lot of money in a place like this. It's a collector's paradise. A million little treasures of hidden happiness someone took a moment to order one day knowing someone like me would pick up and appreciate it's rarity, lack of availability. Even though I don't purchase them, I am satisfied to know where to go when I have a specific list. It's like knowing where to find an old friend you really miss. Stickers on cases that read "no longer in print" indicate this is the Mother of All Music Stores. I have not been fully smitten by San Francisco, but I am head over heels for this store and all it contains. It's really deserving of a kid-free trip so I can have proper perusing.
I replace two CDs: one a roommate stole and one my son broke in half.
I put the new releases back on the shelf, I can find those anywhere.
They were not worthy of The First Amoeba Purchase Experience.
