Best Flea Market Ever*

Oneof my favorite parts of visiting my parents’ lake house is exploring the smalltowns in the surrounding area. This past weekend, the SO and I picked theSantuck flea market near Equality, ALfor our mini-adventure. The SO and I love a good flea market, so we wereexcited to finally be at my parents’ lake house for the first Saturday of themonth, the only day the flea market is held.

Sometimes,the SO and I can stay together when we’re shopping, and sometimes we have tosplit up. Worried about time, the SO quickly decided that we would have tosplit up to get through the vendors most efficiently. It’s possible that heloves flea markets more than I do, and while the sight of the airbrush trailerhad my blood pumping, he had other things on his mind. (Those things? Mainlycamera lenses and weapons – all with benevolent purposes, he claims.)

Likeany good Southern girl, I bought myself a cast iron skillet and some off-brandbump-its. The SO ended up with some electronics and a slingshot. (Yes, thesepurchases are pretty representative of who we are.)

Iwas able to move more quickly through the flea market because, shockingly, atleast to me, the Santuck flea market is far fuller of weapons and electronicsthan it is of cookware and knock-off As Seen on TV products.

Assuch, I decided to cross the street for some grilled corn on the cob and waitfor the SO to finish his perusing. That’s also when I happened upon the mostfascinating vendor of all – the live animal salesman.

Therewere chicks, grown chickens, rabbits, pheasants and so, so much more. It killedme that I didn’t have my camera because I the first thing I saw in this boothwas a large man in a sleeveless shirt, tattooed and smoking while he held afull-grown, live chicken under each arm. If that moment isn’t priceless (andkind of amazing considering the balancing act required to smoke and hold livechickens), I don’t know what is.

Ipicked up one of the bunnies. I pet the goats. (I’ve always wanted a goat, andI hear that they keep the grass in your yard very tidy, but I’m pretty sure myneighbors would object.) Then I stumbled upon the most magnificent creature ofall – the peacock.

Apeacock?!?! I didn’t even know that people other than Hugh Hefner were allowedthe luxury of a pet peacock. Surely, I thought, I could never afford such awonder. But, there, in the middle of the Santuck flea market was a peacock ondisplay and going for only $65.00. I wanted it. Desperately.

Theonly thing was, I didn’t want to keep it for myself. If I got the peacock, Iwas clearly going to leave it at my parents’ lake house just for the fun thatwould be this imagined telephone conversation:

“Laurel!”

“Yes,Mama?”

“Laurel, you are not goingto believe what I saw at the lake this morning.”

“Sawat the lake?” In my fantasy, I play this very coy, not that I am capable ofsubtlety in real life. “Were there some migrating geese?”

“No, not geese,” my mother says. “Laurel, I could have sworn I saw a peacockthis morning.”

“A peacock?”

“Yes, a peacock. I saw an actual peacock justwalking across the lawn.”

“But that can’t be,” I’d say. “What would a peacockbe doing in AlexanderCity?”

“I thought the very same thing, but there it was.Plain as day. A peacock.”

“Are you sure it was a peacock?” I’d say. “Did youget a picture?”

“Well, no,” my mother would admit.

“Maybe it was just a big bird. Or a weird plant.Had you had your coffee yet?”

“No, but I really think …”

“I mean, come on Mama, where would anyone get apeacock in AlexanderCity?”

I know; I’m terrible. But it would be really funny– at least to me.

Ofcourse, I didn’t end up with the peacock. It was primarily because I don’t knowwhat they eat (is it as simple as bird seed?), and it seemed cruel to get ananimal with no idea of its diet. (Yes, I will torture my mother and make herquestion her own eyes, but God forbid I don’t know what a bird eats inadvance.) I also think that considering how budget-friendly the peacock was,it’s possible that it wasn’t in the best of health and my mother’s and myfictitious conversation would have gone more like this:

“Laurel, do you know whythere’s a dead peacock on my dock?”

*No,the irony is not lost on me.