Misanthropy at the Market


One of these days, I’ll learn to stay away from events in which large crowds of people can be found. It seems every time I end up at one of these events, I make the mistake of thinking there will be some merit to it. And every time, I am proven wrong and I end up looking for a reason to bail. Tonight was no exception.

The town that I live in is fond of putting together markets and weekend events, and this weekend it was a night market in the middle of town. I vaguely recall hearing about it a few weeks ago, but didn’t give it a second thought until a friend asked me if I wanted to go earlier today. I thought, in my infinite wisdom, that it would be worth a look. As a creative person myself, I like discovering cute boutique stalls and makers of handmade art and craft, and figured this market would be a good opportunity to scout out a few.

It was pandemonium. I could barely look at anything because of the multitudes of people, crammed in and bustling about, and the few stalls I did get to look at featured largely overpriced items that I could make myself at half the cost. Ultimately, it was far from a success and, overwhelmed and anxious in the large crowd, I was there less than an hour before I opted out.

I relaxed once I was away from the people, and instead of getting a lift with my best pal back to my house, left her and her fiance to have dinner and walked the fifteen odd minutes back to my house to calm my frazzled nerves. I would like to say this will serve as a warning against all other future public events. But as the trivia nights, local gigs and other such events that preceded tonight’s market will attest, I never learn from mistakes, and maintain a foolish optimism regarding my level of public event enjoyment. Apparently my memory is so bad that I forget just how much I actually hate people until I’m surrounded by them. Foolish brain.

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