At Sparks, we hit the jackpot.
Enormous flea market? Check.
Kettle corn vendors? Check.
Plenty of room to walk and sights to see? Check.
Bathrooms? Check. (Well, port-a-potties, anyway.)
I had never seen such a large flea market. In fact, Sparks was one big flea market. We literally did not see any part of the town that wasn't covered in booths. At first I thought it was some kind of rodeo or festival, since I heard a PA booming somewhere in the distance.
While the 4-year-old braved the port-a-potty, I asked some kind-looking strangers about the event. "Excuse me," I said. "I've got a really ignorant question... but what exactly is going on here?"
"This is the flea market," they told me, clearly trying to restrain eyerolls.
boasting about 9 people on a normal day. Twice a year, though, it turns into an antiquer's (and people-watcher's) paradise.
We left with lighter bowels, an enormous bag of kettle corn, and a bottle of Sioux City Sarsaparilla (the Grand-Daddy of All Root Beers). It was a great flea market and a very fine place to stop (though the port-a-potties were a tad fuller than I typically prefer).