My wife and I went on a date. I decided to take her to an auction. She married up.
I couldn’t wait to bid on something. There aren’t many better ways to impress your wife than by outbidding some other fellow at an auction.
Some other fellow: “$120.00.”
Fast-talking auctioneer: “Sold! To the well-dressed man with the clearly impressed wife.”
Before we sat down we were given a fan. Actually it just looked like a fan. It was a big piece of paper with a number on it stapled to one of those sticks you use to mix paint. I couldn’t wait to put it into action.
The first item up for bid was a book.
The auctioneer got things off to a fast start.
“Who’ll give $300 for this book?”
A book?! $300? Not me.
I didn’t touch my auction fan. Plenty of other people raised theirs. Several copies of that book went for $300 a piece.
That’s when I knew that this wasn’t my kind of auction. It was nothing like the last auction I went to.
The last auction I went to was in Lavonia, Georgia in a building where they fix tractors during the week and host auctions and/or professional wrestling on the weekends. It was the kind of auction where people bid on paintings of Dale Earnhardt hugging Jesus. My friend Richie and I were wearing camouflage. We were the best dressed folks there.
I laughed at the people who were there. But it was the sort of laughter you have when your brother falls up the stairs. The way you laugh at your own kind.
The auction I went to with my wife was different. This time I felt like I was the one being laughed at.
We walked away empty handed. So much for impressing my wife by outbidding some other fellow. That’s kind of hard to do when I’m thinking about spending $8 on a rug for the bathroom with a picture of Tupac and Elvis on it and the other fellow just laid down 4.2 million for a trip to Paris to eat snails with some prince. Or maybe it was with Prince. Whatever.
On our way home we stopped at Ingles. That’s the place where people in the south stop on their way home from my kind of auctions. Well, there or the Waffle House. We were buying cookies for us and snacks for our kids soccer game the next morning. Later that night, after the kids were in bed, my wife and I ate cookies and watched a movie.
That’s when I remembered that everything I could ever want was sitting right next to me. And she doesn’t need a trip to Paris to eat dinner with Prince to impress her. But man, it would still be nice to have that bathroom rug with Tupac and Elvis on it.
This weekend, look for us in Lavonia, Georgia.