I was at the local flea market last Saturday. I would not want to go too often, but to pass the occasional afternoon, it is entertaining.
First there are the vendors. They were selling everything from self made crafts to junk imported from China. At least in the south you can always count on a vendor or two pushing swords, knives, and other assorted marital aids. This market had a vendor pushing an item that looked like a cross between brass knuckles and a taser. I’m still trying to figure out the swords. It has been a long time since I have heard of anyone dueling or otherwise involved in sword play. These weapons were not the friendly looking epées of college dueling classes.
In many ways this is redneck entrepreneurism at its finest. At this particular event thought, there many unhappy vendors as no one appeared to be selling very much. It must be the economy. I reckon that is part of the deal sometimes.
Secondly, there are the customers, the window shoppers, and others of unknown reasons and genetics. It seems to run from low class to middle class, but it is skewed towards lower end of scale. There was the lady in the motorized scooter rushing from booth to booth, and you best stay out of her way. There was the couple that I thought were two males, but turned out to man and “wife”. The wife kept up a running dialog almost like her partner was blind (he was not) describing to him the various wares. There were assorted Vietnam War Vets still stuck in the 60s. One who took the liberty of explaining to me that you did not call them “roach clips”, they were hemostats. There was the young couple more focused on each other than the craft jellies for sale. If you love to people watch flea markets are great venues.
Robin had wandered in one direction, I was wandering in another. A little girl who appeared to be about old enough to be in 1st or 2nd grade rushed past me. She beginning jabbering excitedly to a grandmotherly type about a key chain looking bauble she had found. “It is just perfect to hang from my backpack”, she implored. The grandmother muttered something negative along the lines that the little girl had enough stuff dangling from her book bag.
I really need to break myself of the habit, but sometimes I make comments to total strangers, totally unsolicited. In this case I said, “Aw go ahead, it will look wonderful on her backpack.” In the south if someone tells you, “Well bless your little heart”, it is not a compliment or wishing you well. This lady did not say that, but she gave me a look that was a smile with the unspoken words of “well bless your little heart, you cotton picking busybody.”
They wandered on, and I wandered off to run into Robin. I was so tickled by the previous encounter that immediately started conveying it to her. I even included the unspoken subtext of the woman’s look. When from my backside I heard a comment, “I just cannot afford to buy them everything they want.” The grandmother had been standing there listening to me relate the episode.
You find all types at flea markets, even nosy, gossipy busy bodies like me.