Hitched a ride with my sister to a flea market yesterday. We wanted to consolidate our kitschy itch with our kvetching, and really, what better spot to do it all in? If a tractor pull event had sex with a ginormous yard sale, this market is the baby they would bring to term.
Like me, my sister is a former stuffaholic whose knack for collecting stuff led to her collecting storage units in order to contain the habit. There was no chance today’s road trip was going to throw either of us back into the sickness. And much like myself once upon a time, it’s amazing how the dissolution of a long term love thing and its consequent upheaval will make you see liquidation in a whole new light.
There is plenty of useful stuff at a flea market, but I concentrated on the whimsical absurdities in order to keep my wallet in dry dock. Stuff like glow in the dark tube socks, musical toilet seats, toenail clipper cases, personalized corn on the cob prongs, hubcap sized belt buckles. After an hour of this, I was ready to tackle my lunch. Literally.
Flea market food vendors teach you where to put your savoir faire when it comes to culinary undertakings. You put it on a stick- as in meat stick. Actually, it’s more like a sword. The stand I got mine from offered up whole chickens or half cows. I tossed with getting a combo, but I wasn’t in the mood for a herniated disc.
Lest you be fooled, there is absolutely no similarity whatsoever between meat on a stick and a kabob. From the moment you wrap your arms around it, a meat stick is a food orgasm waiting to happen. And unlike the kabob, you won’t have to fake it.
And besides, kabobs have vegetables playing tic tac with the meaty toes as if this mandate for healthy eating should get in the way of enjoying one’s self. Flea market food vendors have remedied this stubborn insistence to eat your vegetables by making it worth your while and deep frying them.
So after my wrestling match with the meat stick, I ordered up a platter of deep fried goodness. Every time I eat deep fried veggies, I feel like calling up the person who came up with such brilliance and thanking them from the bottom of my clogged heart.
After I finished gorging myself, I got to stepping. Not so much to walk off the calories, since that would have required me to walk to San Diego and back. I just wanted to see all the crap that I wasn’t going to buy whilst smoking. Smoking is one of the big reasons I will take an open air market over a mall any day of the week. Squeegee demonstrations are another.
And if they had a liquor license, I’d still be there.