Last week I went to a flea market. A flea market is a magical place where vendors set up shop to sell random items and knickknacks. My sister and her fiancé invited me to tag along and I went without really knowing what to expect. I imagined it would be like a giant garage sale with lots of old furniture, broken appliances, and soiled clothing. I was hoping to find ninja stars and various martial arts weapons. The flea market turned out to be a lot more glorious than I ever thought possible.
We went to the Treasure Island Flea, one of the biggest flea markets in the San Francisco Bay Area. It happens on the last weekend of every month. We pulled up to the gates and got directed to the parking lot by a slew of unenthusiastic parking attendants. We parked the car and approached the main gate. There was a three-dollar cover charge to get in. I won’t even go to a club that has a cover charge, but I reluctantly forked over a few dollars. As soon as we walked in we saw a booth with a huge line. We walked over to see what they were selling. It was booze. They sell alcohol at the flea market. That was pretty amazing. It was even more amazing that I didn’t stop to pick up a drink.
We walked around, looking at all the booths and the excessive amounts of merchandise on display. About half the flea market seemed to be antiques. We saw lots of artwork in the form of sculptures, statues, paintings, posters, and small prints. We saw lots of clothes, some new and trendy, but mostly old and retro fashions. There was gourmet food for sale. There was a ton of books and classic comics for display. We found a treasure trove of old video game systems and cartridges. There was a bunch of old toys and sporting equipment like battered baseball gloves and janky golf clubs. There was bunch of power tools and hand tools that had seen better days. I didn’t find any ninja stars, but there was a nice assortment of knives and machetes.
I left the flea market with a new used baseball glove and a 14-inch Bowie knife. I already had a baseball glove but now I have two and that makes it easier to play a game of catch (now I just have to find a friend to throw with, not a friend who also has a glove to throw with). The Bowie knife was more of an impulse buy, but I had to get it. The zombie apocalypse is approaching and no arsenal is complete without a Bowie knife. I could have gotten a machete, but the knife came with a leather sheath and a handguard that can double as brass knuckles. It’s dull as fuck, but it will still do damage to the undead. If I survive the zombie apocalypse, it will partially be because of the flea market.
Critically Rated at 12/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young