I overdosed on yard sales and thrift stores during the past few months, so I took a little break this weekend. There usually aren't too many yard sales around here on Memorial Day weekend because many people, including us, go "down the shore". My father lives in Brigantine, which is a tiny island directly north of Atlantic City, NJ. We spent every summer there...hanging out at the now-defunct Brigantine Castle, working at Reflections Arcade, boogie-boarding in the ocean and throwing pennies at the hookers along the strip in Atlantic City. Good times. Oh...maybe I should go into more details about the whole prostitute thing.
When I got my driver's license at the age of 17, my parents let me drive the car around the island. I was not allowed to leave the island. Absolutely NO going over the bridge. But there was nothing to do in Brigantine. Needless to say, each night that I was allowed to drive the car, my sister Erin and our best friend Bridget would drive to Atlantic City or one of the other towns along the Jersey Shore. Occasionally, we would scrounge up some change from under the floor mats of the old red Sunbird and throw coins at the hookers along the main drag in Atlantic City. It was usually accompanied by a chorus of "Buy some new clothes"! I don't know what the hell we were thinking. These were some hard-core ho's.
On one occasion, our cousins were visiting from out of state. Like the good tour guides that we were, Erin and I took them on the regular rounds of AC. One of my cousins snapped a picture of a hooker as we drove by her. We failed to mention to our cousin one of the most important rules of hooker-taunting: Keep an eye on the traffic lights. She didn't realize that there was a red light about 20 feet ahead. The hooker ran up to the car and sprayed mace into the open window. Luckily, the light turned green before she did anything else, and I drove away wiping the tears from my eyes.
I'm sorry that this story doesn't have anything to do with yard sales or vintage finds or anything like that. Maybe I should change the story to say that we were on the way to a yard sale when we got maced by a hooker. But that wouldn't be very honest now would it?
Anyway, here's the part where I mention a vintage find. I picked this up at the thrift store at lunchtime today. It is a little homemade spice rack/cupboard. It is about 18 inches high. Those little glass jars would be a great place to store pennies for my next trip to Atlantic City.
[Edited to add]: There is breaking hooker news. Read the update here!