What follows is one of the many articles in the Mercury‘s 2026 Music Issue. Find a print copy here, subscribe to get a copy mailed to you here, and if you’re feeling generous and want to keep these types of articles coming, support us here.—eds.
Warmer weather means tourists are now descending on our fair city, like raccoons advancing on a New Seasons dumpster. As any true Portlander will tell you, no restaurant, bar, or public park is safe from the rows of California plates or the dreaded daytripper. The impending plague of interlopers means that the sacred “locals only” spot will soon become a precious resource. With that in mind, here are five Portland spots that not only offer a premium hang year round, but are also guaranteed to be tourist-free.
9th Avenue Mini Mart, 1028 NW 9th
In a city full of boutique markets and organic grocery stores, a humble convenience store can often serve as a much needed oasis from more tourist laden shopping experiences. Straddling the border of Old Town and the Pearl, this quaint bodega manages to embody both the charming-yet-rough-hewn sleaze of old Portland, in addition to the manic, plastic, gleam of new Portland. Plus, you can literally find anything here. Though it may only have the square footage of the average Portland studio apartment, there is some combination of wizardry and non-Euclidean geometry that stocks this corner store with the inventory of two full-sized Walmarts. I’ve gotten everything here from rice paper to winter gloves, from cat litter to tinned fish. If you walked 9th Avenue’s three narrow aisles long enough, I swear you could find a Fabergé egg. But not a single tourist.
Hillsdale Cleaners Laundromat, 6324 SW Capitol Hwy
Did you know you don’t need to be doing laundry to hang out in a laundromat? Just put three quarters in the powdered detergent dispenser and… boom, you’re a customer. You are now free to spend as much time there as you want. It’s like a public library without all the boring books to clutter the ambiance. A laundromat is a haven of liminality, a safe space between work and recreation, a chore that mostly involves staring blankly at the wall. Nothing is expected of you at a laundromat, and is thus a portal through which an afternoon of true peace can be achieved. When I first moved to Portland, I was couch surfing for six months without any real money or ambition, and I would spend many afternoons watching Nic Cage movies on my laptop as the low rumble of an industrial dryer thrummed gentle melodies throughout this soapy sanctuary. And although the video rental spot next door is no longer there, a few tranquil hours can still be requisitioned within the four walls of this bastion of cleanliness. And while tourists may occasionally require laundry services during their trip, I’d bet a month’s tips that you won’t encounter any past the 6000 block of Capitol Highway.
The Postal Annex, 1631 NE Broadway
Much in the way a lonely person might patronize a strip club to experience intimacy in a controlled environment, I (as a pathologically disorganized person) like to walk the aisles of the Postal Annex and fantasize about what my life would be like if it was structured by planners, highlighters, and cute Post-its in the shape of clouds. This combination mail service, print shop, and stationery store is a guaranteed tourist-free zone. I mean, who sends packages or gets business cards printed while on vacation? Not to mention that the vibes in this store are absolutely radiant. The staff here seem genuinely delighted to be processing your mail and printing your fliers. They elegantly stride through the motions of what could otherwise be a dull retail job with the grace and serenity of a flock of swans. It’s as if there’s some essential cosmic truth that can only be gleaned in the fibrous depths of our country’s mail system. Perhaps by frequenting this unassuming stationery store, a meager portion of that truth can be absorbed through osmosis.
Bardy Trophy Company, 2500 NE MLK Jr. Blvd
The quickest way to inject joy into your life is by lowering your threshold of celebration. Were you on time to work every day this week? You deserve a trophy! Did you go the whole day without looking at your ex’s Instagram? Trophy! Who’s to say this morning’s breakfast burrito isn’t the best in history? Certainly a plaque-worthy accomplishment. Upon request, the staff at Bard Trophy will grant you warehouse access. This cavernous space hidden behind the showroom is where the REAL goods are—and not a tourist in sight. Here you’ll find rows and rows of old trophies as well as trophy parts; all salvaged from garage/estate sales from which you can construct your own magnificent trophy Frankenstein. Recently, I constructed a custom trophy for a chicken strip fashion show, and if that’s a concept that I have to explain, then you have no whimsy in your heart and are beyond saving.
Unity Center for Behavioral Health, 1225 NE 2nd
Sometimes the best way to avoid vacationers is to take a vacation yourself. Can’t afford an out of town trip? Then check if your insurance will cover a visit to Unity and treat yourself to a purely psychological journey with a good, old-fashioned nervous breakdown! Truly the Ritz Carlton of psych wards, Unity is a perfect place to kick off your shoes (you’ll be required to relinquish your laces), slip into some grippy socks, and enjoy the kind of escapism found only in the throws of a severe mental health crisis. I did a week-long stint at Unity in 2018 and can vouch for its sumptuous and opulent amenities. And while they might not have a pool or a golf course like at a five-star resort, you won’t find any better staff than the heroes who work at Unity, and I PROMISE the contents of their pharmacy beats the hell out of even the best stocked hotel mini-bar.
Riley McCarthy is an award-winning stand up comic, writer, and artist currently based in Portland. They are a cast member on Magic Tea Party every month at Back Door Theatre and host a number of recurring stand up shows in the PNW. Their full schedule of stand up gigs can be found every month on Instagram @Rileycandunk.