Flea Market II

Once things at the flea market had settled down a bit (including my temper), we began to enjoy our surroundings. There wasn't that much to enjoy in the immediate environment, as we had been placed in a hallway far from the other booths. But occasionally we took little forays around to check out the other booths and talk to people. There was a gentleman further down the hall, between us and the bathroom, and we found ourselves making several trips to the bathroom. This afforded us an excellent view of this gentleman. And look at him we did. He was Mr. Bean with glasses and a heavy Eastern European accent.

We had taken no notice of what Mr. Bean was selling, being fascinated by the man himself, but gradually we noticed that people would linger in his booth for long periods of time. One man was there for hours, even having his lunch and dinner delivered. He was poring over books of something -- we couldn't tell what -- and frequently took out his phone to, presumably, inquire about something in the books. Finally I couldn't stand not knowing what all the fuss was about, so I told Joe to take another trip to the bathroom.

"But I don't need to," he protested.

"Neither do I, but I want to know what Mr. Bean is selling," I said. "I can't see from here."

So Joe sauntered by convincingly on his way to the restroom. On his way back from the restroom he, too, stopped to look at Mr. Bean's books. He was there so long I began to suspect the man used some sort of spell that made people physically unable to leave until they broke down and bought something. But finally Joe sauntered back.

"Well?" I said excitedly.

"He's selling matchbooks," he informed me.

"Matchbooks?" I said.

"Matchbooks," he said. "They're from all over the world. Some of them are pretty rare, I guess."

I lost all interest in the man after that, no matter how much he looked like Mr. Bean. Matchbooks!

Sometime later, I was visited by the Closet Nazi. Apparently we had set up smack in front of the custodial closet, which the Nazi informed me was at all times to be free from obstacles so as not to obstruct the janitorial personnel in the event they required immediate access to their supplies. She hinted at janitorial emergencies of immense proportions. Since I constituted an obstacle, I would have to move. Seeing no place I could move sideways, as that would block other, equally vital doors, I moved our tables out into the middle of the hallway. I felt very exposed, but the Nazi was firm.

So there I sat, in the middle of the hallway, until the woman in charge of the sale came by. Being very astute, she noticed my change of position and smiled knowingly.

"Was Hazeline here?" she asked.

I nodded. I didn't really know the Closet Nazi's name, but that sounded like a good guess.

"And did she tell you to move away from the custodial closet?"

I nodded again.

She chuckled. "There's never been a need to get in that closet in 11 years, but she takes her duty very seriously, does Hazeline." She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "She leaves at 2. You can move back then."

I nodded gratefully.

"Oh, by the way," the woman went on in a normal voice, "here's the $3 I owe you for the frying pan."

I looked at her blankly.

"Your husband knows," she said, nodding toward Joe, who was just returning from another look at Mr. Bean's matchbooks. The afternoon had been slow.

The woman left, and I looked at Joe. He had suddenly developed an interest in the ceiling tiles.

"She took a frying pan without paying?" I whispered vehemently, looking to make sure she was out of hearing range. "And you let her?"

He looked down from the ceiling and nodded sheepishly. "It was while we were really busy this morning, and she said she would just catch up with us later."

I shook my head at him. Well, he had done a great job that day, so I couldn't be too mad at him. He had made a lot of good deals and was very friendly to people.

"Okay, buster," I said good-naturedly. "I'll let you off this time, but next time -- no, never mind. After the day I've had, there's not going to be a next time."