I like flea markets, I like acreage. So when a billboard boasted of 16 acres of bargains in a flea market setting, I opted to exit the interstate with a friend and browse.
In all honesty, we could very easily have died that day.
Some warning signs:
1) we were the only patrons there
2) prison-style chain link fence surrounded the premises
3) every shed was broken
4) we were no longer in America. We were in a third-world country
Admittedly, I wanted to leave.
"Uh, let's just go. I don't want bargains this bad."
But my flea-market counterpart wanted to press on, so we did.
And we lived.