Estate sale drama.

     I truly have everything I need to survive, so why am I so obsessed with estate sales? Treasure hunter extraordinaire is my mantra. I am not alone in my quest. Today I stood in line for one and a half hours waiting to enter a stranger's home and sort through their earthly possessions. The line was long, the weather hot and the people unique. The people are the one element of estate sales I find fascinating, and today did not disappoint. 
     As I approached the end of the line to begin my wait, someone handed me a number on a lined, white, index card. The number was 12. The lady ahead of me turned to inform me there should be a one in front of the twelve. Ok, so I was number 112 waiting to get into the sale. Many of those numbers had already been turned in but the line was very long. People continued to arrive as we inched towards the front door.
     The two ladies in front of me, previous strangers, had a lot in common. Each was dealing with Alzheimer's in a parent and Autism in a child. I listened as they shared their stories, gave advice and supported each other's frustrations. Other clusters of treasure hunters exchanged stories about recent finds and the best estate sale companies. Purposely, I remand silent. 
     The line inched closer to the front door and people were exiting with their finds, giving us a glimpse of the sales character. Normally I go on the last day of a sale because everything is usually 50% off. Today, my previous plans fell through. Having some time to kill, I arrived one hour into the sale. I soon realized I was among the group of die hard bargain hunters, out for blood.  With the sun baring down patience grew thin and when a couple arrived with a number that had already been called, it turned ugly. Their numbers were 65 and 66. " There is no way they are going to get in." shared one of the ladies.  "Of course not, agreed her new friend. We would all come and get a number and go out for breakfast if that was the case." confirmed the other. 
     Confident that they would be allowed to enter the couple headed past everyone and put on the required blue shoe covers moving to the front of the line. "What nerve!" loudly yelled one of the ladies. "They are not going to let you in, we have been waiting."  loudly confirmed the other. In reply the late arrivals yelled they were told they could leave and come back.
     When the door opened the new arrivals flashed their numbers in front of the staff member and requested entrance. He allowed the numbers he had come out to call entrance and told them to wait, closing the door. A few minutes later the door opened again. The young man asked the crowd if it would be alright to let these late arrivals in to the sale. Most of the people up front had no problem but the ladies in front of me had a fit and started yelling that it was not fair! The bold late arrivals, waved their number card and smirked a frown to silence them. They were whisked into the house to livid dismay, and I, and everyone around me, heard the rant. 
     For obvious reasons, the line moved a little faster now. The ladies turned to me as said, "What do you think?" I replied, "Life is too short for me to worry about someone cutting in line ahead of me!" This temporally shut them up. One women muttering under her breath,"maybe all the stress of dealing with my mom and child has made me less compassionate?" I added, "the company told them they could get back in if they left, blame the company."
     In back of me in line was a Hispanic lady with her daughter and mother. Her mother was tired of standing and she told her to go sit on the stair. She whispered to me she hoped the ladies would not get mad. I laughed, it was ridiculous. 
     Inside, I wandered through the rooms and found this magnetic dart board that my grandchildren will enjoy for a day and it only cost me $4.50. I am sixty and still laughing at myself.