River City Sales is a kind of discount dumping ground created by the mercilessness of American consumerism. And that's not a bad thing if you're in the market for a deal. A front wall of windows lights up a dozen shelves crammed with a most unusual selection of never-used and gently used returns, overstocks and discontinued items from America's superstores. It's like the ultimate thrift store, but where everything is new. Or, like, 98 percent new.
Today, you might find a Pellegrino shrine, with dozens of bottles lined up like bowling pins next to a selection of boxed candy bars. You might find an empty entertainment stand under a stainless steel dozen-bottle wine cooler that's stacked with mismatched woven Moroccan baskets in brown, yellow and hot pink. Giant coffee urns, "open" neon signs, dented boxes of 145-load Costco brand laundry soap, dog food, cat food, pallets of Gatorade, blood pressure monitors, bed spreads, maybe even a diamond ring--all at a fraction of the suggested retail price.
Next week, the selection will be completely different.
It's a place you explore with provisions so that neither thirst nor hunger will distract you from your mission, but if it does, snag a couple of boxes of dented cereal. If you're up for a daylong excursion into a discount wonderland, you can pick through the store's warehouse on Saturdays.