You tried to just walk by, to leave the samurai weaponry and throwing stars alone this trip. Instead, you fondled a nocturnal flying squirrel from Tasmania and haggled a little too aggressively over a sofa set already priced beneath outlet prices. Hell, you handled every power tool in sight at this 60-acre flea market, the largest marketplace on the Gulf Coast. So even if the key you had copied at the makeshift locksmith shop didn't work -- despite the courtesy "valet notch" -- the $1 spent was worth the time away from entertaining your knife fixation. Inevitably, you start to move past the bluegrass band, hot dogs and piles of blue jeans. The weapons are drawing you in, you can feel it. But a flash from the ground breaks the spell. White block lettering stenciled on a black doormat reads "OH SHIT. NOT YOU AGAIN." You're laughing hard as you fork over a few more Washingtons, and you've completely forgotten where you were going. Nice save.
Readers' choice: Traders Village