Fire at the Flea Market
This just in ... the South Augusta Flea Market has burned to the ground. No more funnel cakes. No more Italian sausage dogs. No more hand pulverized fresh lemonade. (sniff)
Four years ago, almost to the day, Augusta magazine published my love letter to flea market foods. While we have (uh, make that had) two flea markets in town, I always preferred South Augusta over the Barnyard. The Barnyard flea market is ... well, here's what I wrote:
The Barnyard Flea Market, unlike the elder statesman of Augusta's swap meet scene, has a shiny, new feel. Open and airy. No dark, grubby corners. And that's part of the problem for me. A little too antiseptic.
Oh, I'm going to miss that dusty and rusty collection of ramshackle buildings. I'm going to miss those crazy hand lettered signs. Again, I quote from my article ...
Here, next to an assortment of personal hygiene products: "Do Not Test Deodorant." And here, propped on a cage of birds: "Hand Raised Cochatiels." And by a box of mewling kittens, one for the too much information file - "The one that looks like a siamese is already taken but can't be picked up until 6 p.m. because the owner works with food."
For those among you who have ever enjoyed a greasy cup of vinegar fries or a puffy stick of cotton candy at a local flea market, get out your black clothes. Cover the mirrors. Sit shiva. Say the kaddish. Offer Janazah. Invoke the spirits. Chant.
Ah, we lost a gem.
deb
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Reader Comments (4)
For those folks arriving into our smelley expensive little airport - Welcome To Augusta - The Garden City - hope they clean-up the remains at some point. These burned-out disasters have a habit of sticking around a little too long.