Yesterday I thought since I prefer to support the independent comic shop rather than a chain, I'd check out what 1-888-Comic-Shop told me was the closest one to my new apartment. I thrilled at the idea that there could be a Comicopia (my Boston shop)-like store within a mile from me.
Well, it was easy to find... geographically... but its exact location was among many doors in a warehouse-type building at the end of a dead-end road, accessed via the parking lot of an auto body shop. I had to ask the pale, long-white-haired man smoking on the stairs outside the door whether this was "Rah-Coco's." He said "mm." I went in and was stared down curiously by three middle-aged employees, including an oldish woman whose presence in a corner threw me for a loop, and one disembodied voice asking "can I help you?" as I searched around for the new releases. It was very dungeon-like, dark and tight and chock full of collectibles -- I don't even know what I mean by collectibles, because I can't recall any particular object -- and it took me a while even to find any comics, which then were all back-issues. I asked the woman for the new releases; she said she was just putting them out now, and to come back. I said I would. Then I climbed over the white-haired man, who was now sitting and filling the width of the stairs, and went to the nearest Newbury Comics.
It made me miss Comicopia's bright yellow walls, its easy navigation, its hairy-but-friendly yoga-master owner. But something tells me I'll go back to "Rah-Coco's," if only to peruse the back issues.
2 comments:
I love weird places like that, although the fact that everyone was that much older than me might dissuade me from returning.
Where else have you gone in your new home-town? How close in the nearest Newbury?
Welcome to Providence. That is pretty much Providence in a nutshell.
-a mess of doors, people that just aren't right, not exactly what you are looking for, hole in the wall, then overyly comercial-
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