|The Laurel Flea Market, Sunday March 20, 2011|
Today I thought I would dip my toe in quintessential southern (Sussex County) Delware culture and visit the Laurel Flea Market. You know the old adage 'The best intentions....etc?' Well, it didn't go well.
To get to the Laurel Flea Market from our house on the East side of Route 1 to Laurel, Delaware; one drive down Rt. 9, through Georgetown (and THAT circle) and continues on Rt. 9 for about 28 miles. Yes, a long drive. Not only is Laurel a long way away from where we live but it is another whole culture.
|This pooch obviously didn't want to be at the flea market today|
In Sussex County, Delaware there are two distinct cultures. The first culture is the one that Bill and I and all of the thirty-eight occupants of our development represent. Most of us are either retirees, transplanted from another state, or second home owners who escaped to Delaware to enjoy their senior friendly low taxes, mild winters and the slower placed coastal life style. Most of us 'Transplanters' live on the East side of Route 1 or just over the other side of Route 1. Yes, we HUG Route 1. Granted, some of us venture farther into Redneck County, aka as the real Sussex County but those are a few, brave hardy souls, mostly butch lesbians and deeply in the closet older gay men who don't want to be identified with the out gay men who live in the Rehoboth Beach/Lewes/Milton area of southern Delaware.
|Somewhere in this conglomeration there is a treasure...I know it!|
Occasionally we on THIS side of Route 1 venture into the REAL Sussex County, albeit at our own risk. Today was such a day. I felt like taking a ride to lighten my mood after the depressing events of this past Friday night, of which I wrote about in a previous blog. I thought it would be nice to take a nice Sunday Ride and visit the Laurel Flea Market. Bill likes to poke around and look for bargains and I like to take picture of the Local Folks. Uh huh.
|Blankets and perfume stand - can't miss!|
So I decide I don't want to go through Georgetown and I take a back road. As a matter of fact I took a lot of back roads. A LOT. I ended up on Zoar Road, past the prison (always a fun ride on a Sunday) and we finally ended up on Rt. 9 which was where I should have stayed all the time. Bill and I can't take a lot of riding in the car. I'm actually more patient than Bill. Bill especially doesn't like to be trapped (his words) in a car when the driver (that would be me) doesn't know where he's going.
|Bill is overwhelmed with the selection|
So we arrived at the Laurel Flea Market and Bill was in a sour mood. In fact he was in his Crotchety Old Man Mood. Think Wilfred Brimley constipated for a week. When Bill gets in these moods he goes into his Back Seat Drive Mode telling me how to drive. Big mistake. Only one of us can drive the car at a time. Can you see where this train is heading? I've seen this movie before and it never ends well.
|One thing about the original Sussex County Guys, they may not have all their teeth but some of them are hunky studs - WOW!|
So I park while Bill is grumbling and barking at me. We get and are immediately assaulted by the Other Culture. I'm always amazed that I'm amazed at the stark contrast between Us and Them. For one thing most of them are missing significant amounts of teeth. Another thing, the woman and men talk LOUD. They also talk with a unique mixture of southern accent mixed with a faux Appalachian accent. You've never heard anything like it before in your life.
|Oh yes, you can eat at the flea market too - if you get there early in the morning you can be serenaded by a Dolly Parton/Willie Nelson duo sing-a-like - you DON'T want to miss that - they're up in a bird's nest over the 'dining area'|
So we're perusing the outside tables in the too chilly air, not blending in at all, looking at the junk on those same tables. And I mean JUNK. This stuff is for sale! The stuff we saw at the thrift stores yesterday was in better condition that these dirty, torn and tattered remnants of a hard scrabble life that these people apparently live. This is what poverty looks like, big time. I felt like a rich man (which I'm not) slumming amount the Great Unwashed Mass. And here I am with my iPhone taking pictures, trying not to be too noblesse oblige.
|Moi feeling vastly superior taking a photo of the Local Folk|
I took my pictures, Bill took some pictures of me, and then we got the hell out of there. The ride home was uneventful. I stayed on Rt. 9, and yes, through the Georgetown Circle which was actually nothing on this Sunday. So all my 'back road' travel was for naught. All we accomplished was touring the back roads of Sussex County. We did see a lot of new chicken houses though.
|Do I look out of place or do I fit in?|
Bill says the next time he's driving.