Flea markets are so strange because they can have the most amazing things that you would never be able to find anywhere else and they also have the stupidest junk that no one would ever want to buy. We went to an indoors flea market in Dudley, MA yesterday and it, at first, seemed like it would fall into the first category of flea markets, so we were excited.
The first few tables had really cool old posters and hair combs, books, bicycles, and a lot of stuff that we really liked but not enough to actually buy. It started to go downhill when we went into this room full of boat motors that had an overwhelming gasoline smell and a little kid constantly screaming "Dad! Dad! Daaaaad! Dad! DAAAAAAAD! DAD! DAAAD! DAAAAAD!" There was then a brief interval of old-school election pins and pretty earrings and then another room full of cereal boxes and candy with the sign "These items may be damaged or outdated." This was the room of people who try to make money by buying things in bulk and then selling them individually for more money than they are worth. It was also the room of pizza-eating creepers and ladies who talked to themselves. It also started to feel like a haunted house because even though there were multiple signs that told us we were being videotaped "to prevent shoplifting", everyone seemed to think that we wanted to snatch their apple-turnovers from 1996, so they kept following us around like the people do at haunted houses when they're trying to scare you.
The wildest part of this flea market was the fact that there were three planes (one 50% off!), a helicopter, a car, taxidermied animals, and mannequins in Air-Force uniforms. It was all very "Twilight Zone"-esque, especially because despite all of the video surveillance precautions (which we highly doubt actually existed) to keep us from stealing these priceless goods, there seemed to be no one around to give us prices when we actually did want to buy something. All of the vendors seemed to be cornered in the cereal box or boat-motor room so we ended up leaving empty-handed because the stuff we wanted to buy was being sold by invisible people.