Flea Hollister

Today I had the experience of taking place in the full spectrum of shopping experiences... and best of all it was in Ohio. My parents took us first to Rogers, which is one of the largest outdoor flea markets in the tri-state area, and then to Boardman, a shopping district containing a very impressive mall. Ohio is a very strange place to begin with, but our experiences there today definitely didn't help this odd state's case.

For some reason as soon as you cross the PA state border you are immediately transported to something out of Jeff Foxworthy's wet dreams. Ohio, at least the southern half of the state, is filled with farms, trucks, and chewin' tobacco. This makes absolutely no sense. What makes even less sense is that the folks of Ohio think they were part of the Confederacy. Driving through the rural areas of South-western Ohio, it seemed as if every house was flying a Confederate flag, reminding me yet again that the South will rise again someday. This would be perfectly fine except that Ohio was part of the Union, and was also a key player in the Underground Railroad. They had nothing to do with the Confederates! But I digress.

Rogers, Ohio is the closest thing we have to a marketplace in Bangkok. It's filled to the brim with people, it's hot and rank, and visibility is almost nil thanks to the copious amounts of dust in the air. But, unlike Bangkok, where most of the people where robes, scarves, and head-dresses to fend off the heat, everyone here is wearing as little clothing as possible. This makes everything that much more uncomfortable for such upstanding Pennsylvanians like myself. So while four-hundred pound farmers and skinny, bearded-box-van-owners fill the aisles of booths, I am trying to shop with as little personal contact as possible.

The items on display ranged from gaggles of cell phone car chargers, strung up like fish in Chinatown, to homemade belts and shirts that said "I'm American by Birth and Rebel by Choice." Just as you enter the grounds, you are greeted by cages of puppies, all in deep vegetative states just trying to keep cool. My brother and I were there simply to spy some cool DVDs and old videogames (both good items to look for at a place like this). I managed to nab myself three out-of-print Woody Allen movies and Danny grabbed F-Zero X for the N64. Karissa got herself some lemonade. But really the best items to get there, if you aren't going for anything in particular, are the Rogers staples: poultry, fruit, and swords. You can get a chicken for seven bucks and a sword for $25 and be able to make yourself dinner!

Since the heat was exceptionally unbearable, and you can really only take about of hour of a place like this, we hopped in the car and went to the more civilized Boardman district, which is about twenty minutes from Rogers. I've been to Boardman countless times, so I'm used to the area, and its many treasures (but really it doesn't have anything different from Robinson Town Center or Monroeville... but it's in Ohio!). I did try something new while we were in the mall: Hollister.

I've seen kids walked around with these hot pink Hollister shirts for months now, but I had no idea where the store actually was. No wonder! They don't have a sign on their store. Instead, this hip retailer is more like a secret club, and unless you looking at the bottom step on their stoop, you would never know it existed. Each store has an awning and a stoop, to give it a tropical (or Asian) feel to it. Of course, just walking by the entrance sent chills down my spine... suddenly I heard Al Borland's voice from Home Improvement saying, "Welcome to Tool Time!" But I am always up for trying to understand the poor saps of my generation, so I went into the store.

Immediately you are faced with a question: are you a dude or a betty? But seeing as how our group was mixed of boys and girl, we went with dude. I was then greeted by two tan fellows (whom I can only assume were named Blake and Tad) who were twice my size. They said something to me, but I couldn't hear them over the sharp scent of "Drift", the crappy cologne that fills every last centimeter of the store. I just replied, "I'm good, man." and walked past a table of ripped jeans and pink shirts. This store was unbelievable. It managed to take the personality and individuality out of every last man there, and replace it with a flipped up collar and a side-ways ball cap (which might not be so bad if that little combo didn't cost upwards of $60). I don't know how stuff like this can happen... usually the great system of capitalism does over-priced crap-pushers like this in.

Needing oxygen, we fled to the food court. I didn't buy anything at the mall, but I had a great time observing the "gap of madness" between the sweaty flea market and the haughty Hollister.