A Wild West Stakeout…​ At the Flea Market

I’m going to tell y’all all a tale that will make you shake in yer very boots. A tale such that the wild wild west ain’t never seen before…


After a few full days, Sunday rolled around and the whole gang was itching to get out of the house. My mom had the idea to go to the Alemany flea market that morning and from there, we’d see where the wind blew us. Now, of course, I was down for the flea market Saturday night, but every time the alarm goes off for it the next day, it seems I’d rather do just about anything other than getting out of bed. Fortunately for me, my mom riled me out of bed and somehow got me to move before my preferred wake-up time of 2pm. Since I was now up, there was no way in hell that I would allow my sleeping Dad to get off easy. I screamed “Get up ugly!” and we were off.

At the time, I had a severe coffee addiction that only ended when I got the flu and figured it was too convenient to not just ride the wave of ick and quit without distinguishable withdrawal symptoms. That said, the addict I was demanded coffee. If I had to be awake at such an ungodly hour, it was necessary to fuel up. Even my mom who wanted to get to the flea market early said, “We should stop, we all know she’ll be in a better mood if we do.” Exactly right. Couldn’t have said it better myself. Unfortunately, Starbucks was the only option and it is not only foul but slower than the DMV. Safe to say, mom wasn’t thrilled.

Once we finally got there, things took a sharp turn towards score-town. I usually never find anything at the Alemany, so I was truly shocked that I found something better than a fedora. I can literally trace my last purchase there back to 6th grade when I bought a pair of surf-picture covered vans. I was so stoked. Keep hangin’ loose 6th grade me. Anyways, I found the most kickass vintage t-shirts. I am a t-shirt aficionado, and vintage tees are not only my vice but also my lifeblood. I recently watched a video about some jerk buying up literally every vintage tee he comes across and sells them for $300 and up. I tried to respect the hustle, but I was HEATED! No wonder they’re impossible to find. I didn’t even want to ask for prices when I saw a clothing rack filled with vintage clothes because I have PTSD from all the times the prices were so high, I almost passed out. Luckily for me, I took a chance and was hit with a miracle, only ten bucks! Honestly, even that’s a lot for me but these days if it’s under $20 I figure I’m doing good. Swooped that bad boy up and ran.

Me sensing vintage danger

As I milled through endless piles of stuff, I felt the eyes of a predator. At first, I thought “Eh, It’s only me,” but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. Never, I repeat NEVER deny your junking instincts! I turned, and just as I suspected, a vintage-clad hipster girl was near and scooping up just about every cute vintage piece of clothing at the stall next to me. Utterly. Disrespectful. This monumental slight was a challenge, and I accepted. I shouted “Not in my town, rapscallion!” and ran to the same stall. Right before my eyes, I saw her grab the most perfect vintage tee and buy it immediately. I WAS HORRIFIED. NO ONE BEATS ME AT MY OWN GAME!

Realizing my fate, the duel begins now

I revved into high gear. I would NOT be outdone by a beret-wearing, straw basket toting Pinterest girl! Try again next time, Satan! Looking through the racks of clothes at the speed of light, there it was. Just what I needed to win the battle. A darling vintage Guns N’ Roses tee. “Thank you, god,” I whispered, pointing to the sky. I swooped that baby up and asked how much it was. “$10”, the man said. I thought, “Hmmm, not only am I going to buy this shirt, but I’m also going to get it cheaper than my enemy did.” “Could you do seven?” I said, crossing my fingers and toes. I was met with the wonderful word, “Yes.” At this point, the Pinterest girl had noticed me. Clearly, her vintage predator radar was far less developed than mine, as I had noticed her within seconds. How sad. She hit her boyfriend and said, “Damn it, look at that!”

Me, proudly displaying my hard-earned tee…


The shootout was over. I had won. Other hipsters present looked on at me with respect in their eyes. I think I might have even seen one shed a tear. I was a force of second-hand superiority that had never been seen before. Years of rummaging experience had led me to this moment. I went on to go down in history as the sharpest shooter at the Alemany Flea Market.


Defending my territory, victorious



The End.