Garage Sales
Across the street from my house is a spacious park area with many picnic style benches. There are many large items being displayed such as reclining chairs, bikes, couches, paintings, 4-drawer dressers, old magazines and shoes (to name just a few). Every afternoon at dusk, as I ride my bike home, I see a bunch of older folks gathered in this area. The old guys running the "flea market" always seem to be having a great time, like they're playing a wild game of BINGO or poker or something. I like the idea of a flea market/poker party/late night campfire atmosphere. Well, without the campfire and s'mores of course. Just good ol' fashioned good times.
So, I figured I'd go and check things out. It's been a year. My curiosity is unbearable. And, afterall, I love a good flea market, not to mention a good game of cards. As I walk over to the flea market, the conversation stops. I give my standard "Konnichiwa", and things start back up again. I walk around checking out the different pieces of furniture, artwork, and other stuff. I saw a comfy recliner and decided to plop down in it. "weew, this is nice!"
The card game stopped. The record scratched. The strange looks lasted for a total of 27 seconds... until I gave a quick little exit speech, "arigato!" and a bow just for good measure.
It took me 27 long and torturous seconds to realize that this was no flea market at all. This was a residence... to about 10 homeless men. And yes, they do play cards. And no, the chair is not for sale.
Sometimes I forget that I live in the projects. Other times I realize that I do.
So, I figured I'd go and check things out. It's been a year. My curiosity is unbearable. And, afterall, I love a good flea market, not to mention a good game of cards. As I walk over to the flea market, the conversation stops. I give my standard "Konnichiwa", and things start back up again. I walk around checking out the different pieces of furniture, artwork, and other stuff. I saw a comfy recliner and decided to plop down in it. "weew, this is nice!"
The card game stopped. The record scratched. The strange looks lasted for a total of 27 seconds... until I gave a quick little exit speech, "arigato!" and a bow just for good measure.
It took me 27 long and torturous seconds to realize that this was no flea market at all. This was a residence... to about 10 homeless men. And yes, they do play cards. And no, the chair is not for sale.
Sometimes I forget that I live in the projects. Other times I realize that I do.
posted by niki at 9:46 PM
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