In the farm country to the north of Denver, out where the foothills of the Rockies give way to the high plains of the East, there is a vast series of open lots that serves as home to the Mile High flea market. We've passed it many a time on our way to the berry farms. On the first day of the holiday weekend, we decided it was a good time to investigate.
The flea market is, for lack of a better word, surreal. One feels in another country.
I think I should have bought a trumpet.
Q found a parasol to add to her collection, and it was a good day for a parasol...in the mid nineties with no relief from clouds.
And then there was this...my holy grail. I love lucha libre masks. Laugh if you will. But there it is.
This Mysterio mask might actually be the start of a collection, now that I know where to find them ;) And Q scored herself a Mexican soccer uniform, which we will no doubt see much of in the near future.
While winding our way through the farms and trainyards, we had the good fortune to come across this. So I guess we know what we're doing tomorrow night!
Happy weekend to all.
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