Kiwi... Unleashed!

If you ever have the desire to view an interesting sampling of the American population while finding bargains abound, go your local flea market. I�m not talking about a variety tent sale in a parking lot, or a downtown festival peppered with vendors. I mean one of those large buildings that looks like a deteriorating barn held together with aluminum chicken house siding, with rows of outside tables around its perimeter, and a �parking lot� in a field down a dirt road with no pavement in sight. If you don�t have a flea market nearby, find a farmer�s market, which is a basically a flea market with a lot of produce stands, wallboard partitions to create little shops instead of multiple rows of tables and more organized parking. I�m going to be traveling overseas next week, and the family I�ll be visiting requested baseball hats as an American souvenir, so I thought I�d be able to find an interesting variety at my local farmer�s market.

I got there at about 9:30 am, figuring the lot would be filling up by that time, but it was surprisingly quiet. I remembered to check the number of the entrance I used, so as not to wander around the parking lot searching for my car while dragging along my bags of worthless items I just had to have. When I got inside, all of the little shops were still covered up with their red, green, yellow and blue carnival tarps, and only the produce stands were open. I�m not exactly sure why they use those things. It�s as if no one would know there was a shop behind them if they couldn�t actually see the items for sale. I thought �object permanence� was something you learn as a baby. Maybe they contain a force field which prevents people from getting into the shops for security purposes. Of course, looking at a lot of the people wandering through the place, most of them probably wouldn�t be able to figure out how to circumvent the system so maybe it�s a sufficient method for flea market vendors.

Apparently, most of the shops don�t open until 10:00 am, which surprised me, since a lot of flea markets, sidewalk sales and yard sales start at the butt crack of dawn. Then I realized it was a Sunday, and that only those of us destined to burn are out shopping at this time of morning, so I sat down in a little diner-type alcove with the other people who got there as early as I did and ordered some breakfast. I got a cup of coffee, 2 eggs, 2 links of sausage and a big-ass biscuit for $4.70. And no, in case you were wondering, none of us sitting in the little pseudo-diner said �Grace.� I�m already headed for the down escalator, why turn around and attempt to make a futile run back up?

Frankly, the food at most flea markets somewhat scares me, but this place had tables and waiters and a visible and clean looking cooking area, so I decided to take a chance. My breakfast was a good, down home diner kind of meal- the kind that leaves you feeling properly fed and satisfied, that is, until all the grease you just consumed decides to awaken your innards and compel you to ask any given stranger where the nearest bathroom is. Incidentally, this is also the point at which you start praying. I know, I know, TMI. Sorry.

By that time, most of the shops were opening, so I began my shopping mission. There are certain things you expect to find in flea markets, such as t-shirts, handbags, toys and household dollar store-type items. In larger farmer�s markets, like the one I went to today, there are places where you can buy baggage, have your eyes checked and put furniture on layaway. There was a guy working in the furniture section dressed in a suit, like he thought he was in Sears Home Furnishings. Buddy, you�re in a flea market- I think jeans and a shirt with no holes in it will suffice, especially since the chick at your sales desk has only half of her teeth.

Going to a flea market is a convenient place to shop. You can wear the clothes you wore to the bar the night before, and still have a good chance at being better-dressed than most of the people there. I�m not saying everyone that goes to the flea market crawls out from under a rock to do so, but it�s not exactly a fashion show, and it ain�t no MENSA convention, either (poor grammar intended.) Between the thick local accent, �I�m American, own a gun and I�m proud of it� attire, and other such redneck items, you�d think you were in North Carolina, which prompts one to wonder what the NC flea markets are like. I�m guessing they�re about the same, only with fried foods instead of produce, more rebel flags, an abundance of white bed sheets and KKK member�s discounts. I have no problem saying this because yes, I lived in North Carolina for four years, so I can attest. It�s a frightening step back in time, but that�s another story for another day.

The best shops to go in are the bargain basement and dollar stores. You can find all sorts of things- toiletries, spices, toys and household necessities, and it�s all dirt-cheap. Walk further through the building and you can buy sweatpants, T-shirts and various hats for about a quarter of what you�d pay in a regular store, and sometimes even less than that. This, to me, is a wonderful thing, being the kind of person who can�t stand to pay $6-8 for a single pair of socks in a department store. I got thirteen pairs for $13- you can�t beat that with a stick.

So, a bag full of socks, one knit purse and one baseball cap later, I found my exit and waddled my well fed ass out to my car, having spent less than $35 on a good meal and a few items I actually needed that I would have paid out the ass for if I had gone to the mall. Where else can you have breakfast, get your name airbrushed on a license plate and buy a Jesus nightlight all in one place? It�s one-stop shopping at it�s scariest.

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