I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect to spend half my day in there. I walked in thinking I’d do a quick lap before heading off to find something good to eat, the way I usually plan my market stops whenever I’m traveling through Arkansas.
But the aisles just kept unfolding, booth after booth, each one pulling me in a different direction. I’d pause to flip through crates of vinyl, then drift toward shelves of retro kitchen tools I swear my grandmother used.
As someone who spends most weekends chasing great meals and local markets, I thought I had flea markets figured out. I didn’t…