Author: admin

Dec. 5, 2008

Giddy-up! It’s that time of year when we buy useless items for people who will probably never use ’em!

My editor, perhaps mischievously, informed me that the Red Barn Flea Market in Bradenton had everything, so I figured I could knock out all my holiday shopping in one place in one day, the Saturday after Thanksgiving. This was my inaugural voyage to the big barn and I’ll freely admit I was nowhere near prepared for the smorgasbord of randomness that lay before me.

The first thing I saw as I walked in was a man selling every kind of blade imaginable: three-sided knives, Chinese throwing stars, machetes, every stabbing and slashing utensil known to man.

Interesting.

As I continued into the market I realized that I was indeed in a barn. It was a rainy day and I heard drops tapping on the tin roof and wind beating on the canvas tarps that form the barn walls. The place had a carnival feel to it, right down to the funnel cakes, elephant ears, kettle corn and other assorted state fair goodies you grew up with.

There were clothes, hats, sunglasses, handbags, jewelry, games, toys, old signs, vases, candles, furniture, patches, buttons, golf clubs, action figures and a gold mine of used books – and that was just one booth. I saw bottles and jars containing every liquid, gel, lotion, potion and wonder drug under the sun. There were antiques, real and fake; Tupperware, new and used; strange handmade items, foreign and domestic. There were puppets, Muppets and stuffed animals of every shape, size, color and breed. Nothing had any kind of order. It was nick-knack heaven.

Turns out, there’s a reason why this place is so random. Red Barn Marketing Director Linda Sterrett says pretty much anyone can get a booth by placing a call to the vendor manager, and you can sell anything you want, as long as it’s legal and appropriate for all ages. With that kind of freedom spread across 650 booths and 5 acres, you’re bound to find a little bit of everything.

As I walked along the corridors, which all looked different but similarly chaotic, I noted some amusing contrasts. A booth selling soap sits across from a booth selling brand new cars. A booth selling hot tubs complements a booth selling statues of Buddha, both symbols of comfort and abundance, I guess. I saw a sign that said “Pain Relief – Free Samples.” I wanted to sample some pain relief, but no one was working the stand. Some booths had whole families tending them and some had nobody.

I made my way to the food court to see what was cooking. At center stage was a hot dog stand called Maw’s Place. Through the glass, you could see two grills covered with hot dogs, hamburgers and long, spiraled, uncut sausages sizzling among a mountain of onions, peppers and sauerkraut. I ordered up a Polish sausage and some fries, sat at a table and took in the crowd, a motley bunch, with no shortage of jean shorts, indiscernible tattoos or Bucs jerseys.

After lunch, I checked out some produce. Most of the food items are located in a strip of tents covered with leaky tarps behind the main Red Barn. The mist from the rain reminded me of the vegetable sprayers at the supermarket, but, unlike at a supermarket, the variety of flora here seemed endless. As I entered I saw a curly, gray-haired lady no taller than 5 feet wearing a softball jersey and holding a Chihuahua as big as a watermelon. A seeing-eye dog strolled past me, guiding no one.

I walked back to the main barn, where the man at the Wonder Knife stand glared at me like he wanted someone to talk to. In the next stand a guy who looked like the town drunk sold jumbo shrimp out of a big, white cooler.

Despite hours at the Red Barn, I struck out when it came to gifts. Perhaps my editor was fooling with me. That jackanapes.

But while I didn’t walk away with any must-haves for the fam, I’ll definitely be back for me. I concluded my Red Barn experience with an elephant ear from the Hot Rodd Café. I was up to my elbows in powdered sugar, when I looked up to see a kid staring at me. I guess we all look weird to somebody.