When in Easton...

This article has been changed since initial publication July 17, 2010. Please see the postscript at the bottom.

Jason Dollemore and I have been friends for thirty years, so we can abuse each other pretty easily without any hard feelings. We have this unique ongoing game of one upsmanship. When we go out to eat neither one of us can seem to find our wallets, so we sit there, pushing the check back and forth across the table, sometimes for hours, trying to wait each other out, making the waiter feel really uncomfortable. The hope is the other will finally relent and pay because they need to be somewhere. Thankfully the cheap SOB lives on the other side of the mountains so I don't have to see him very often.

With that back story in mind and his recent job loss he decides to buy Easton. Easton, Washington, that is. The entire friggin' town, minus the saloon! We start out with the 4000 square foot general store. Then add the gas and diesel pumps, the propane sales, the firewood sales, the towing business, a restaurant, a four unit no-tell-motel that sits on top of the store, a huge shop, an impound yard, oh, and a falling-down rental house thrown in for good measure. So who does Jason call for a building inspection? Yeah, me. I figured after talking to him I could knock this thing out in three hours, you know, an afternoon's work and some entertainment wrangling over the bill for dinner that night.

Well I get into it and it turns out he is buying a building that was built by Native Americans about the turn of the century. Turn of the 18th century. The rental house was guarded by an attack dog who answered to "Cujo", and it had so much leaking sewage on the ground I thought I was at Brightwater. This POS rental house had more additions off the back than I have exes. At least three. Maybe four. I lost count in both cases. Six electric panels, several walk in freezers, two death trap furnaces exhausting god knows where, one crappy air conditioner, four or five falling down decks, a men's room, a women's room, an employee restroom, metal roofs with huge chunks just simply missing, and open parapets. Oh this is making me ill just writing about it.

It was hot and I was sweating. After listening to me complain for half an hour, Jason brought me something to drink from the store. A lukewarm Snapple. Diet Snapple! When I got done at close to 9pm he rewarded me a with a Pepsi. At least that one was cold.

The deal was Jason PROMISED he would take me to dinner afterwards to the finest Mexican restaurant in Cle Elum with no haggling over the bill. I told him I was mighty hungry. He told me to order whatever I wanted. I ordered the menu. The entire menu.

So after a lukewarm diet Snapple, a cold Pepsi and Cle Elum's finest Fajitas, he wanted a long formal report with pictures so he could beat up the seller. He had already beat me up, so why not the seller too? After about six hours of writing up the report from hell, I sent it to him. Figured with all that I could have him buy me dinner for life and get free reign of the store.

So two weeks later me and my parents and kids were traveling to Spokane, and naturally we stopped in Easton. I walked in the door and asked if he had any shopping carts cause I was GOING SHOPPING. I guess we were all tired from the drive and not really hungry, because I got a pack of gum and my dad got an ice cream bar. The kids might have gotten a bag of chips. Pretty weak.

Total tally was this huge inspection traded for:

(1) Berry Trident Gum

(1) Small bag of Lay's Potato Chips

(1) Ice Cream Bar

(1) Lukewarm Diet Snapple

(1) Cold Pepsi

(1) Veggie Fajitas

Since I really need to put the screws to Jason, next time you find yourself driving over I-90, go to the south side of the freeway towards town, stop at the general store, pick up whatever you want, and simply say,"put it on Darrell's tab", as you walk out the door.

Postscript: Jason Dollemore tragically and unexpectedly died January 22, 2011, at his home in Easton, mere months after purchasing the store. We are all devastated beyond words at this horrible loss of a universally loved 45 year old man. This blog entry is now my treasured tribute to his life and what he meant to his family and those lucky enough to be his friend. RIP JD: 3/15/1965 to 1/22/2011. He got to me once again, simply by dying. I can just hear his cackle----because I bought last time! He had the ultimate last word. Dying is no excuse you cheap bastard!