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| - I feel no nostalgia or sympathy for the Bonanza Gift Shop. For an entire year, I lived next door to this musty chamber of horrors. Out of sheer convenience and desperation, I purchased their stale potato chips and dusty bottles of wine. Each experience attacked my dignity and my wallet, leaving me feeling somehow less of a person.
Apart from their miserable, overpriced stock--featuring monstrosities like Vendage and Barefoot chardonnay--I always felt unwelcome here. In the parking lot, there was usually an inebriate slumped against the wall, loud music bumping from a parked car and a drifting panhandler screaming at the ground. The security guards snatch your bags the moment you enter and follow you around the room. Paying with a credit card necessitates mutiple ID checks and clerks scribbling down inscrutable numbers.
I've had a few truly absurd incidents here. Once I decided to save a tree and bring in my own reusable shopping bag. Not happening. Despite my protests, the guard insisted I check the empty bag, then vanished for the next half-hour while I waited. Adding insult to injury, they request your reciepts at the door and sometimes follow you outside.
With all this security and suspicion, you'd assume the Star of Brazil was displayed somewhere on the premises. But no...all you'll find here is mini liquor bottles, cheap wine and shameless kitsch. If you're just looking for a beer, walk an extra block north to the Circle K. If, however, you're in the mood to be gouged and harassed, then this is the place!
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