There’s nothing like a country auction
This past weekend I was introduced to a whole other world.
It was a world that I was completely unfamiliar with, and yet I am dying to go back.
I attended my first country-style auction.
This was no place for grandma’s priceless china. There were no cabinets from the 1800s. And the closest thing to family lace was a crochet pot holder.
But I loved every second of it. And I even walked away with a few treasures of my own.
I wasn’t quite sure of the idea of attending an auction when my friend Jamie asked me to go with her Friday night. I had been to a few when I was a kid, but I remembered that I wasn’t too impressed with them.
But Jamie can sell a red popsicle to a lady in white gloves. She had me sold on the idea of attending a small auction in Anguilla.
“They sell all kinds of stuff at these things,” Jamie explained to me on the way there. “They auctioned Moonpies and even a used bottle of Windex one night when I was there.”
I was basically tagging along for the good company. We were meeting our friend Brittany and her mother. And, if nothing else, it would be good conversation.
We pulled up at an American Legion hut in the middle of nowhere. The parking lot was already smack full of people, and the auction didn’t even start for almost another hour.
As soon as Jamie and I entered into the room, a wave of cigarette smoke nearly knocked us down. The smell of fried fish, fried chicken, fried onion rings...fried everything lingered in the air.
There were hundreds of chairs scattered around the room. There were old office chairs, old recliners, old school lunchroom chairs and even plastic crates.
We all signed in, grabbed a number and found a row where we could all sit together. I was number “54” and my little cardboard had number figures scribbled all over it where the previous cardholders were trying to add up their total amount of purchases.
Waiting on the auctioneer to get ready, I decided to order a chicken basket and a cold soda pop.
Returning to my seat, I noticed the row in front of me. There was a lady who had a small dog leaning over her shoulder. The dog kept barking at me. It even had a red polka-dot dress on.
Beside her, there was a little boy sprawled out over a series of blankets. He had a portable DVD player on, and he was watching a movie. Inside his mother’s purse was a variety of snacks and sandwiches for him to enjoy throughout the night.
These people were clearly veterans.
Throughout the night, I listened to the rambling of an auctioneer. With his tan cowboy hat and western shirt, he sounded almost like he was speaking his own language. I wasn’t quite sure what he was saying.
I did manage to get in on the action and was able to snag two rocking chairs for our front porch.
The people beside us got 10 packages of rope, an assortment of glass figurines, almost 100 canned goods and even a box of tomatoes.
One lady next to us bid $1 on a “surprise box” and ended up with the top of an ice cream maker without the bottom.
It was quite the experience. I left there with a belly full of fried food, hair smelling like cigarettes, two rocking chairs and memories that I will never forget.
A week later, my purse still smells like the auction hut, and my stomach is still recovering from all that grease.
There’s nothing like a good country auction.
And I can’t wait to get back.