A Weekend Of Fictional Retail Destinations, Pt. 2

Waking up on Saturday morning to realize there were few ways of topping Friday’s year-in-the-making visit to Springfield, I decided it was time to pull out the big guns and take a trip to the Echo Park Time Travel Mart. More on that in a minute. First, a disclaimer. For reasons beyond my understanding and control, I have sort of an unhealthy obsession with time travel. Not because I want to change anything that’s happened in the past, mind you, or because I’m overly interested in skipping ahead to see what happens down the road. It’s just that I’m fascinated with the notion of being able to. The freedom of skipping Tivo-style through the history books, coupled with the potential universe-ending ramifications thereof, are all far too fun not to sit and ponder for days on end. Or to write into a four quadrant action-adventure script unlike anything anyone’s ever seen (inquire within.) So needless to say, the idea of a supply store for the discerning temporal traipser had my interest piqued. But what, exactly, is this place?

It’s an inititative of 826LA, a non-profit writing and tutoring program with locations in Echo Park and Venice (of grunting weightlifters fame, not singing gondoliers). Started by novelist Dave Eggers and with more celebrity backing and indie cred than a Ting Tings concert in support of the Obama campaign, 826 has gone nationwide with themed storefronts as part of its fundraising efforts. Each location features a different theme and artist-designed merchandise that isn’t available anywhere else. There’s the Pirate Store in San Francisco, the Space Travel Supply Company in Seattle, the Superhero Supply Outlet in Brooklyn and now the Time Travel Mart here in Los Angeles.

Papered with retro-style travel posters offering getaways to different eras (one for the ice age and another for a robot-dominated Tokyo now live in my apartment), the self-described “Pastport Office” has everything ranging from chainmail armor to time travel fuel lining its shelves. Bypassing bulk-sized cans of “Mammoth Chunks” and an incubator full of dinosaur eggs, I opted for a t-shirt sporting the store’s logo – a caveman shaking hands with a robot – and a very cool beer cozy.

While I doubt the store stocks anything an individual genuinely displaced in time might need on short notice, it’s definitely an entertaining diversion for the rest of us. And since every dollar you spend goes toward a good cause, go ahead and bring some cash. While it’s unclear if they’re using paper currency in the future, it’s still accepted in the present.