06-14-2013   Leave a comment

Today started out as a day to just lay back and take it easy.  That’s usually an easy thing to do if you don’t leave the house.  Once I’m out and about and see other people then my mind starts working overtime and sometimes not in a good way.  I love people watching but they  just make it so easy for me to criticize them.

I was heading to my bank for a little cash retrieval which should have been no big deal.  I pull in line behind one vehicle and made the incorrect assumption I’d be on my way  fairly quickly.  Not a freaking prayer.  I’m waiting and waiting and not moving.  I open my door and what do I see?  There’s a homeless guy standing at the drive-thru ATM getting some cash to carry him over for a few hours or maybe a few drinks.  If you’ve got an account with money in it at BOA why are you homeless.  I’ve seen that same dude every time I drive through this town standing at the side of the road at a main intersection begging for cans.  It’s entirely possible he’s making more goddamn money than I am and he too has an account at Bank of America. 

My better-half insisted after the ATM fiasco that we make a short visit to a local flea market.  If she doesn’t buy at least one thing every day she goes into a weird shopper’s withdrawal.  The flea market in question is well known for having some of the highest “bargain” prices in southern Maine. 

We arrived there and the place is crawling with tourists.  We got lucky and found a decent parking spot and then the fun began.   I never know what I might buy in places like this until I see it and so I spent the next hour diligently looking through mountains of so called antiques (junk) with nothing catching my eye.   I did notice one thing though.  The prices for this crap were through the roof.  I think we can thank those oh so popular American Pickers and the dozens of other TV programs that have convinced America that every piece of crap more than ten years old is a valuable treasure.   Thanks for nothing TV.

I saw one item of interest which was four inches high and maybe three inches square, a hard carved wooded block.  It was filthy dirty and had no price tag which is not a good sign.  If there’s no tag it means the seller first checks out the potential buyer and charges them a price he thinks they can afford.  I politely asked for the price and the guy tells me $80.00.  I could only stand there until the shock wore off.  I guess my comment" “you’ve got to be freaking kidding me” made him a little unhappy.  He then proceeds to tell me that he purchased that exact piece for $400.00 in Kenya three years ago and has the paperwork to prove it.  I then asked what the exchange rate was with Kenya at the time.  Probably $200.00 Kenyan dollars for each American dollar. I just laughed and walked away with him chattering in the background.

That’s two hours out of my life I’ll never get back.  It’s also the last time I’ll be visiting that place.  I feel for those stupid and gullible tourists from all over the country being bamboozled into buying this junk for outrageous prices.  Like P. T. Barnum always liked to say “there’s one born every minute”. 

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