I live in Gloucester City, New Jersey, which is directly across the Delaware River from Philadelphia, PA. Not exactly the hustle and bustle of the big city, but still a relatively urban area complete with traffic jams, drug problems, stray dogs, and row homes. However, in a mere half hour drive south, you find yourself in what I like to call “God’s Country.” Southern New Jersey is almost all farmland and wide open space. Yes, the cookie cutter mansions and soccer mom SUV’s are starting to creep in, but it is still a peaceful, beautiful area. Regardless, a far cry from North Jersey and the smog, chemical plants, annoying accents, and rude folks that give my New Jersey its bad name.   

Right outside of Woodstown, New Jersey (which itself is a nice slice of Main Street Americana at its finest), is a glorious, amazing place called Cowtown Rodeo. Yes, it is actually a rodeo. Since 1929, on every Saturday night in the summer they hold a fully functioning rodeo. The site proclaims “you and your family are invited to come out and experience the excitement of a professional rodeo.” I had the pleasure of attending back in the summer of 2004. The highlight was not just the excitement of seeing a bull throw a guy ten feet into the air, but that you can actually bring coolers of beer into the rodeo! You wonder where the crowd comes from though — you would swear you were in rural Texas. Polite, slow talking, county fried, wholesome people out for a night of seeing animals get lassoed and mistreated. You see families cheering on their favorite rider, booing the meanest bull, and laughing at the crudely dressed rodeo clowns. But the rodeo is just one part of Cowtown; the flea market is a whole other story.

This weekend, I brought my girlfriend for her first trip to the Cowtown Flea Market. Our son came as well, but this was his third trip with me. I love taking my son to odd places; my hope is that he will appreciate them as much as I do someday. Now, my girlfriend’s been to a flea market before, but never Cowtown Flea Market. This is the fringe of our society at its finest.  I giggled practically the entire time, and this time I had someone to make my bad jokes to, which my girlfriend tired of about 5 minutes in. I was marveling at all the wares and products being offered — socks, bedazzled denim pants, 1994 laptops, five dollar sunglasses, fake perfumes and colognes, and Africa Shea Butter (I don’t know what it is either). Did I mention socks? That seems to be the crown jewel of the flea market experience. And what seemed to be the hot ticket item on this trip — Mexican wrestling masks. I’m not kidding. Check out the picture below. There were about five different booths selling them, and they even make a Philadelphia Eagles one. I know Halloween was a day away, but not many kids I know wanted masked Mexican wrestler as their costume.     

We made it out safe without buying anything stupid, eating anything the vendors sold, or getting touched or breathed on by any of the clientele. If you live in the area, and want to get a glimpse of how the fringe, carnival workers, migrant workers, and underprivileged shop — Cowtown is the place!          

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