Jockeying Around

We have some spring weather visiting this week. In preparation for her visit the remaining leaves that littered the front porch, walkway and carport have been lifted skyward and onto someone else's property with the mighty leaf blower.

 

Both the roadster and the truck acquired a new shine along with the sun's, chrome wheels sparkling and window glass water spot free. Yesterday was a beautiful day to just hang out.

 

Saturday we drove by the Jockey Lot. It was late afternoon and the crowds viewed from our quick drive by were huge. I turned my head toward the husband and said "hey, let's go tomorrow".

 

Sunday after breakfast, showered and dressed, coiffed and sparkling clean, we drove across town once again and visited that Jockey Lot.

 

A few steps into the first aisle, I knew this was a mistake. Rows and rows of new junk. Boxes of socks, ribbons and bows, booths with lamps sporting long hanging crystals, balls and baubles on a bright shiny "gold" base and rows of old Cd's, and vinyl album.

 

I watched in dismay as a couple in cowboy boots, jeans, tattoos and a few piercings inquired about the price of that lamp. At this point I was more interested in them then the lamp this lady was so enthralled about.

 

The smell of grease down row 11 overpowered the knock off perfume counters and the booths showing off homemade scented candles.

 

Row 11 boasted picnic tables, the guests enjoying hot dogs, funnel cakes and burgers. Tall drinks in paper cups sweated water leaving circles on the wood topped tables as their owners sipped them, washing down their food and attempting to keep their children from spearing each other with the new weapons they discovered after consuming their  "chicken on a stick"  

 

The Jockey Lot leaves a lot to be desired in the way of shopping but the people watching experience is priceless. I like the piercings. Maybe "like" is not the correct word. Why in the world would anyone put a hole there and then decorate it with a ring?  Long graying ponytails on half bald men surely must be making a statement only they are privy to.

 

Through the chatter of the lot a voice rolls out of the loud speakers. A soft voice welcomes everyone and proceeds with this message:]

 

"This is a "no pants low zone". We do not allow pants hanging below your underwear. No one wants to see your boxer shorts or your underwear. Should you have a problem following this rule, we will have security escort you from this lot. Thank you"

 

 

 

An hour spent wandering the lot and gawking at everything and everybody and it was time to escape.

 

I was convinced it was now my nap time. The husband was waiting on the chicken fried steak and potatoes I had mentioned earlier that would be our dinner.

 

It all sounded good when I promised that early in the day. By dinner time a Big Mac burger would have been acceptable.

 

We had the chicken fry....and an early bedtime.