It's like we never left
Anyone reading this of a certain age remembers the ritual. The family loads into the car for the heady journey to the local Blockbuster, eager to peruse the shelves for a physical copy of the night's entertainment. You remember when your local store began the transition from VHS to DVD. No more need to be kind, rewind. Blockbuster was the lynchpin for countless sleepovers, first dates, and Netflix & chill at a time when just the idea of Netflix would seem ludicrous. To even access the internet you had to pay the 3-step AOL troll toll of cacophonous robot noises blaring from the tinny speakers on either side of your monitor. And you better hope nobody in the house was expecting an important call.
The internet was a place where you had inane AIM conversations with your friends. You were proud of your perfectly crafted, and upon retrospect, unbelievably cringey screenname. You would spend an hour drafting a fabulous away message. Untold hours on your terrible Angelfire page. The You've Got Mail guy. Forums, flame wars, flash player. BRB, A/S/L, Y2K. Chat rooms. Oh chat rooms.
Napster was destroying the world. Myspace was cool. Abercrombie, Fitch, & frosted tips.
It was a weird time.
But the one constant was Blockbuster. You were be guaranteed to share the store with a few other customers mulling around weighing their options. Everyone had their own strategy. I would do a quick lap around the perimeter, keeping an active ranking of the new releases in my head. Occasionally I would wander around the inner aisles, the comedy section, action, thriller. Horror just to see the scary covers. I would never consider actually watching a horror flick, I was a very frightened young man.
The moment you rented a movie with a red label the doomsday clock started ticking, counting down until noon on the 3rd day. You had better slide that sucker into the little slot by the time the clock struck zero, lest you incur the dreaded late fee. You could have probably bought a used car with the late fees that my family racked up over the years.
And remember the membership cards?
All that is to say that the Blockbuster video store in Bend, Oregon is like you never left it. Apart from a small section at the back with Russell Crowe memorabilia donated by John Oliver (we'll get to that), nothing has changed. I was expecting somewhat of a spectacle, given that this is the last remaining Blockbuster store on Earth, however the humdrum mundanity of the store is the most remarkable aspect of the place. We find ourselves among a half dozen other patrons walking the aisles, quietly scanning the titles like it's 1996, deciding between Independence Day and Twister.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Make it a Blockbuster Night
"Ok I just had an idea, if we're going to do this, we should set some ground rules"
"How do you mean?"
"If we're going to Blockbuster, we need the full '90s experience."
"Alright I'm down"
So we set some ground rules
- No GPS. We can check the map before we leave the motel, but once we cross that threshold, no electronic guidance. If we get lost we'll have to ask for directions or somehow find a paper map.
- No internet. If we have a question we're going to have to argue it out or depend on the drunk guy at the end of the bar.
- Only 24 photos allowed all night. We're on the disposable camera limit.
- Texts & phone calls are only allowed as long as we're inside an establishment that would have a landline.
- Landon is offered a special carve out: unrestricted communication is allowed to his pregnant wife. I think that's fair.
And finally, not necessarily a period piece ground rule, but we agree upon it: we must get really stoned. Because... I don't know, it's Blockbuster.
So those are the rules. Let's boogie.
Blockbuster Video
The story of Blockbuster is absolutely bananas.
The company began in Dallas after David Cook's oil & gas software business went belly up in the early 1980s. His cinephile wife Sandy encouraged him to look into the video rental business, which at the time was a fragmented assortment of mom & pop shops with limited inventories and an essentially non-existent selection of new releases.
David leaned into his data/computer science background and created an automated system for inventory control, demographic tracking, and database management that gave him an immediate and substantial leg up on the competition. He also pioneered an experience, which now seems obvious, but at the time was novel: he displayed the movies on shelves, which customers grabbed & ferried to the front to checkout. I can only speculate on the status quo but I imagine it was similar to a liquor store in a bad part of town.
In 1987, Wayne Huizenga, founder of Waste Management, and the man who some may know as the former owner of the Miami Dolphins, Florida Panthers, and Florida Marlins, took a controlling stake in the company. It was he, not David Cook, who spurred on Blockbuster's explosive growth in the late 80s/early 90s. By 1994, the company was making \$4 billion a year from 3,600 locations, making it larger than its next 375 competitors combined. At its peak in 2004, Blockbuster boasted over 9,000 locations, with nearly 85,000 employees in 15 countries worldwide.
In 1994, Blockbuster trialed a concept known as the Blockbuster Block Party, an indoor entertainment complex aimed at adults, consisting of restaurants, arcade games, laser tag, motion simulator rides, and a "high-tech maze", whatever the hell that means. The concept didn't take off, which is at the very least a bit peculiar given that Dave & Busters operates 144 locations in the US with essentially the same concept. D&B, a company that, in a bizarre coincidence, was also founded in the mid 80s in Dallas.
So that's pretty silly, but it doesn't really have anything to do with the actual viability of Blockbuster as a company. Here's where it gets really hilarious. In June of 1997, John Antioco, the president of Taco Bell, resigned his post to become the CEO of Blockbuster.
That's right, president of Taco Bell.
To run a movie rental business.
What could possibly go wrong?
Well, unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for Taco John to shit all over himself. In his first year he declined an offer from Warner Brothers to exclusively rent this newfangled thing called DVDs before they went on sale to the public. Walmart summarily swooped in and within a few years surpassed Blockbuster as Hollywood's largest single source of revenue. That's gotta sting worse than Taco Bell Diablo sauce on a paper cut. Nowhere to go but up for Taco John right? Right? Right?
Well, just a few years later, in the year 2000, Taco John decided to turn down another offer. This time it was to buy a fledgling streaming video company. That company? You already know... it was Netflix.
Biiiiiig oof.
A blunder big enough to get most people a nice kick in the ass on the way out the door.
But, seeing as this is America, everyone is afforded 3 strikes. And boy did Taco John take a gargantuan cut on strike three. After rebuffing two mega deals that could have offered a lifeline to the struggling company he finally found a deal that he liked. It was a partnership to create a video-on-demand service, which on the face of it seems like a prudent decision. But... you're going to laugh... the partner in the partnership?
ENRON
Enron!! Are you kidding me??? I wish I was joking. As you can imagine, this didn't go so well. Taco John, take a bow, you single-handedly inflicted more damage to the health of Blockbuster than a 3 AM Flamin' Hot® Cool Ranch® Doritos® Locos Tacos Supreme®.
Incredible.
So the taco guy didn't work out. Surely we can find someone to get us back on track. Maybe someone in digital media, streaming, data... anything but fucking tacos.
Sure, boss, anything but tacos. How do Slurpees sound?
Slurpees? What the hell are you talking about?
Jimmy Keyes is available.
For chrissake, Jimmy Keyes? Are you kidding me?... We need someone to sail this ship out of Taco John's diarrhea sea & you suggest Jimmy Keyes???
Well.... We didn't look real hard, boss.
Actually... Y'know what? I don't give a shit... "Pam! Cancel all my meetings, I'm gonna need the Scotch... Yes the one behind the 'BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY' glass... Yes, I'm serious... I don't know... You have a resume? Yes you should update it... I don't know... I don't know... Yes you can leave early... They're bringing in Slurpee Jim... I know... I know... That's what I said"
So, in July 2007, James W. Keyes, president & CEO of 7-Eleven, took over as chairman & CEO of Blockbuster. It's honestly admirable of Blockbuster to lean into their death spiral in this way. Why hire someone with experience in digital media to limp this carcass to bankruptcy when you can go out in an incandescent ball of incompetent glory?
The part of the story I don't like is that before Slurpee Jim took over Taco John was at the helm for 10 years. How did it take that long to pull his greasy taco fingers off the steering wheel of this station wagon careening directly for a cliff?
Well we all know the story, Slurpee Jim predictably couldn't clean up the mess that Taco John made and the company filed for bankruptcy in 2010. And thus ended an empire.
Or did it?
The Wikipedia article for Blockbuster LLC states that Blockbuster was "an American-based provider of home movie and video game rental services." In my opinion, as long as the store in Bend, Oregon is still in operation, Blockbuster is and American-based provider of home movie and video game rental services.
And for the love of god don't let anybody even remotely related to Taco Bell anywhere near this precious Central Oregon gem.
This Is It, Don't Get Scared Now
Before we venture out into the great unknown I check, double-check, re-check, hip-check our directions. Once we set foot out that door no more relying on the map.
Left on 3rd out of the Econolodge - quick left at on Franklin & under the highway - right on Bond through downtown to the Oregrown Dispensary - left out of the dispensary for about a mile - right on Revere & back under the highway to paydirt.
Left-Left-Right-Left-Right-Blockbuster.
Seems easy enough.
We bundle up, grab a couple walkin' beers, and step foot back in time. Left on 3rd, left on Franklin & under the highway. At the southern edge of downtown we hang a right on Bond, pressing through Old Bend, past Bend Brewing, past Deschutes, right to the doorstep of Oregrown Dispensary. We both have about half a beer left & don't want to waste them so we brainstorm.
"Let's just stick 'em in this bush"
Brilliant.
We scoot into the dispensary, voted "Best Dispensary" by The Source Weekly five years running. It's Oregon's most exciting herbal experience. The bubbly receptionist takes our name and we have a seat in the waiting room. Our fellow pot patrons are merry; we have a conversation with some older women about what junk food & reality TV shows they plan to watch that night. A weed store waiting room is the adult equivalent of a minivan ride to an ice cream parlor. But instead of chocolate chip, rocky road, and Cherry Garcia, we have platinum huckleberry, lemon sour diesel, and skunk in the trunk.
After a short wait they call our name and the receptionist leads us through a door and introduces us to our budtender.
"What's happenin' fellas, how can I help ya?"
"Uhhhhhh"
I gawk at the bewildering assortment of cannabis crops, concoctions, and contrivances.
"I guess we'll take a pen?"
"Right on man, do you need a battery & cartridge or just the cart?"
"Uhhhhhh"
"No worries man, I'll get you all set up. Ok now what are we looking for, a body high? Head high? Indica, sativa, hybrid? I've got a great granddaddy purp right here, chery pie slurricane, super lemon haze, jet fuel gelato, watermelon brain grenade, death star OG, and of course, the golden goose hindu kush."
I give him a look that I hope signified how the hell do you expect me to know any of that
"Ahhh alright man, alright.. I'll recommend the pineapple upside down cake, it's an indica/sativa hybrid that will give you a nice mellow high without knocking you on your ass, it's probably our most popular strain"
"Sounds good to me superchief"
The whole experience was like a non-judgemental soup nazi kitchen. Overwhelming, yet welcoming at the same time. If you can't tell electric lettuce is not my vice of choice. Don't touch the stuff. So I am still in a fog of bewilderment as we exit the establishment.
We hang a left to continue our Northward journey on Bond.
Should we have sprung for the mountainside llama bomb? The magnetic space thruster? The spectrum?
"Oh shit.. the beers!"
We double back to the bush to grab our road sodas. Conveniently, we find thick clump of trees upon which to relieve ourselves and within which to take a rip of the jazz cigarette.
sssssssswwwwwwwwwppppppp.......
...............
yeaaahhhhuhhhh.......
...............
It's hitttttinnnnnn phhhhwwwwwwwwwww.......
...............
Our mind is clear.
Our purpose is in focus.
Our mission is....
What's our mission again?
Russell Crowe Has Entered the Chat
In early 2018, the Bend location was one of four remaining Blockbusters. The others, all located in Alaska, drew the attention of Last Week Tonight's John Oliver. In an episode of LWT, Oliver revealed his attempt to help the Anchorage store stay afloat "by doing something breathtakingly stupid."
How stupid you may ask?
Well in April 2018, Russell Crowe held an auction to "celebrate" his divorce from his wife Danielle Spencer. Over 200 items that were used by Crowe in his films were put up for sale, including the vest he wore in 2012's Les Misérables, his hood from 2010's Robin Hood, and most notoriously, his jockstrap from 2005's Cinderella Man.
Oliver acquired the aforementioned memorabilia in the auction, sending the items to the Anchorage store in the hopes that they would draw visitors. Unfortunately, the paraphernalia couldn't save the suffering store, which shut its doors in July 2018. This left the Bend location as the last remaining Blockbuster Video on the planet. In the process of closing up the Anchorage store, the items were sent to Bend, where they are on display in all their glory.
In a hilarious coda to this story, Russell Crowe, upon hearing of Oliver's hijinks decided to get in on the fun himself. He took the proceeds from the items sold to Last Week Tonight and put them to charitable purposes. In a video produced by Crowe, he revealed that he donated the money to the Australia Zoo Wildlife Hospital, run by Steve Irwin's family (yes, that Steve Irwin). They are using the money to develop a vaccine to help Koalas suffering from a disease that can cause blindness, infertility, and even death.
The disease? Chlamydia.
And such is the tale behind The John Oliver Koala Chlamydia Ward.
I Have to Return Some Videotapes
The sign for Revere St. gleans in my eye and I stop dead in my tracks. We've reached the final ridge. One final push to the summit. The entertainment precipice beckons.
But first a train. Maybe.
The horns are blaring, the lights are flashing, the arms of the railroad crossing are down.
But there ain't no train.
Cars are backed up. Drivers look agitated. But it's not the normal "I'm sitting at a railroad crossing" agitated. It's an "I've been sitting at this railroad crossing for 15 minutes without a goddamn train" agitated.
We look left. We look right. Wait.
No train.
We creep up to the crossing.
No train.
So we walk across.
Dumbass cars.
They only have their dumb wheels.
They can't even go around the railroad crossing arms.
They can't even parkour.
Dumbass cars.
And then we see it. A blue and yellow shining beacon of entertainment freedom. The guiding light of Millennial adolescence. The star of Bendlehem. It's beautiful.
Like sugar deprived children bursting into Russell Stover's we walk into the last Blockbuster on Earth, high as Seth Rogan on a Tuesday. The glass doors direct us to the right upon entry. I can't say for sure that all Blockbusters directed you to the right, but all the ones I remember did.
The second I step foot inside a sort of autopilot kicks in, a sensory impulse honed over hundreds of adolescent trips to the foremost authority on feature film rentals. I find myself subconsciously walking through the new releases section.
Perusing. Browsing. Ranking.
I begin formulating an argument for my choice over whatever the hell Landon picks. Although, given his affinity for ducks, I really hope he doesn't pick The Mighty Ducks. I don't know if I could argue against Gordon Bombay & Charlie Conway's Triple Deke.
Should I go for a new release? Or am I in the mood for a classic? Seeing as we're in full-on 90s mode maybe an Adam Sandler vehicle?
The satisfaction of walking through a physical wall of movies is immensely superior to flicking your thumb through Netflix. With Netflix you have no peripherals. You're on the jungle floor. At Blockbuster you're swinging through the canopy, the entirety of your entertainment kingdom sprawled below. It's magnificent.
I mentioned it before but cannot stress enough how unremarkable this store is. There's no fanfare. No ballyhoo. Not even a hubbub! We're joined in the store by a handful of other people, quietly shuffling through the aisles, reaping their motion picture harvest. If you snagged someone from the Clinton administration and dropped them here, some 20-odd years in the future, I think their only comment might be "what's that stuff in the display cases in the back?" And perhaps "what the hell is a chip card?"
It's extraordinarily ordinary. Even the popcorn ceilings and fluorescent lights are boring as shit.
We make our way to the back of the store, to the Russell Crowe memorabilia display. The hood from Robin Hood, the vest from Les Misérables, the Gentleman Jim Braddock boxing robe from Cinderalla Man. Conspicuously absent is the jockstrap. Upon further investigation (the next day of course, no internet tonight) I find that the jockstrap was not included in the shipment from Alaska to Bend. Its whereabouts were uncertain until Last Week Tonight located it in November 2018. It brings me great pleasure to know that the garment is in safe hands.
In addition to the Russell Crowe memorabilia, the store displays an assortment of nostalgic nicknacks, my favorite of which is a copy of Home Alone 2: Lost in New York on LaserDisc. I think that's worth the trip to Bend in and of itself.
Oh. There's one small detail I may have forgotten to divulge.
We don't have a DVD player.
So all that talk of choosing a movie was completely pointless. Did I mention we're stoned? But we came to Blockbuster for the experience anyway. If we wanted to lay on the glorified hay bales that the Econolodge calls beds & watch a movie why would we walk all the way here? I mean.. we have Netflix.
But like the contestants on every 90s gameshow we "couldn't leave empty handed." And seeing as this Blockbuster is the same as every Blockbuster you remember, we are required to navigate through the candy maze before exiting the establishment.
Stoned guys.
Candy maze.
A match made in heaven.
The girl working the counter must be used to dumbass tourists frequenting the store because she was completely unfazed by our moronic discussion of the relative merits of various treats. Luckily the store wasn't busy for our confectionary confabulation clogging the candy maze.
We decide that tonight's particular variety of stoned has us hankerin' for frozen novelties. Landon opts for the Snickers ice cream bar, which used to be my go-to, but I have recently been converted to the Church of Twix Ice Cream Bar. I don't want to talk about the initiation ritual, but by god is it a délicieuse friandise.
Well Now What?
I reckon there's nothing left to do now other than head back to downtown to continue the merrymaking. I should mention here that Landon's sense of direction tonight has been atrocious. Every single intersection he suggests is the exact opposite direction. And it doesn't just happen a few times, it's every. single. intersection. I still don't know to this day if it was just the pot or he was fucking with me. He also had to pee about 100 times throughout the night. It was an absurd evening to say the least.
So we depart the Blockbuster 180° from where Landon wants to go, headed back to downtown. We stop at the first tavern we see and belly up to the bar. The bartender hands us a menu and gives us a few minutes to decide on our swill of choice. Now I'm still really stoned and the words on the menu enter my right eyeball and disappear completely from my cognition by the time my left has reached them. I'm in a stupefying torpor when the bartender swings back by.
"What'll ya have?"
"Uhhhhhh.... can we get a few more minutes?"
"Sure thing"
A few more minutes of ineffectual menu scanning. My brain's CPU has gone dormant.
"Ok, so what did you guys decide on?"
I panic
"Ahhhhhhh I'll take...... a......... PBR"
"Seriously? You took 10 minutes to decide on a PBR?"
Call Stanley's! We're gonna need a hearse to haul away my corpse. Death by bartender barb. Directly in front of my stupid face are at least a dozen tap handles, supplying mouthwatering craft suds from a collection of breweries that are within walking distance. And we went with PBR.
The bartender gives us the business but we all have a good laugh.
We throw back our blue ribbon award winning pilsners before settling up and continuing the journey. Now I have no rational reason for our next decision, maybe it was a subconscious overcorrection for the PBRs, maybe the pineapple upside down cake had us feeling fancy, whatever the case we inexplicably stroll into a wine bar.
Why on Earth anybody in our condition would walk into a wine bar is beyond me. In an act of abject irresponsibility they seat us at the bar and hand us a wine menu. I say this not in the sense that we shouldn't be served alcohol - we have only had a few beers over the course of the evening - it's that we shouldn't, under any circumstances, be served fine wine.
But, it's Blockbuster night, nothing makes sense. As a tiny consolation the high is beginning to wear off so I can actually comprehend this menu. I pretend like I have some idea what the hell I'm talking about and order the 2018 Domaine Serene 'Grand Cheval' Oregon Red Wine, a Syrah/Pinot Noir blend that "looks like your most full bodied offering, we've really been hammering our palate tonight." I'm an idiot.
We enjoy the red wine like a couple of snobbish dipshits. They could have poured us a \$5 bottle of bag wine & we wouldn't have been the wiser. The highlight of the wine bar had to be a woman who was very upset that they didn't have a table for her. There's something about entitled assholes not getting their way that just makes life that much sweeter.
We conclude our nonsensical oenophilic foray and agree we need a change of scenery. It doesn't take long for us to set our eyes on the billiards tables of Sidelines Sports Bar & Grill. This is much, much more our speed, us hayseeds from Oklahoma race on good ol American Goodyears, not those effete Pirellis.
We reserve ourselves a table and order up a round of Ranier tallboys. I conduct myself admirably for the first few games, but as one Ranier turns into many my billiards acumen drops precipitously. Our skills on the pool table approach the depths of Madison Hotel executives. And our interest in the game seems to directly correlate with our ability. It's getting late anyway.
To say we've had quite a day would be an understatement. A day where you ski in the rain, illicitly smoke licitly purchased pot behind a bush, and peruse the last Blockbuster on Earth should receive strong consideration for the Wacky Day Pro Bowl. It's a day against which to judge all wacky days future and past. It's the type of day I hope continues for locals & visitors to Bend, Oregon alike.
Long live Blockbuster!
We stop off for a slice of pie & a final glass of suds on our way back to the Econolodge. We try to remember all the questions that went unanswered throughout the night due to our internet embargo. We don't remember a single one. Perhaps they just weren't that important. Perhaps we can survive without the world at our fingertips. Perhaps we just need to be kind, rewind.
Perhaps.