Panochey E.
Yelp
Not to be confused with the Santa Rosa Farmers Market which happens on Saturday over on Maple, the Santa Rosa Downtown Market is as Lee S. aptly described it, a freak show. And guess what? You're one of the freaks!
So what's there? Eye candy? Both legal and jailbait. Shame on ya' fer lookin'! Foodie nirvana? Off the frickin' chart. Cool musicians playing instruments, some possibly that you've never seen before? ABO-SO-LUTE-LY. Child abuse in the form of a contraption in which parents pay to have their kid strapped in so the little tykes can bounce virtually gravity free? Ohhhh, yeahhhh! SPRONG!!!! WEEEEEEEE!!!!!! Frighteningly overprice produce? Cha-ching!
So here it is in a nut shell.
1.) A great place for tweens and teens to roam and hang, see and be seen in a safe environment. (Plenty of cops everywhere, no public drinking.)
2.) Food and food additives, (spices, etc.), "hippy" clothing, art and public interest booths galore.
3.) Street musicians and visual artists.
4.) Young families with strollers, seniors, boomers and a smattering of bangers around the edges.
5.) Cops, firefighters, (with the BIG RED TRUCK) and kiddie rides.
Lastly, there was one table, er..., guy..., uh, cowboy.. type dude who defies explanation. For those of you who've been waiting for the meat of this review, thou shalt not go away with a wantin' piehole.
So my piehole, along with my sister's piehole, are cruising the market. There was this guy, 40ish, cowboy hat, standing by a card table, handing out flyers. On the table are...tin foil... footballs, about the size and shape that would hold a baked potato..., sitting...., on the table. Lots of them....sitting... on the table. He's not handing them out, they're just...sitting...on...the table.
The guy totally creeps out my sister, who is no wimpy cookie. (She used to hunt wimps for sport.) So I, with no sense at all, go over and get a flyer from him. Sis watches in horror, sure that she'll never see me again. He seems surprised I actually want a flyer, looks at me strangely, but hands me one anyway. I get back to my sister intact, (much to her relief), and hand her the flyer to read. I glance over her shoulder, curious. It said...
I don't know. Something about angels and who knows what not. No phone number, no email addy, no web site. Nada. Whatever this guy thought was important enough to spend money on to print up a bunch of flyers, set up a table downtown and then stand out there all afternoon, with a bunch of... foil-wrapped baked potatoes on his table had to do with angels. All of this just added to poor Sis's creep-o-meter. So was ol' Panochey freaked? No sir, my take on it was
a) the guy was hurtin' NOBODY and
b) Is this a great country, or what!?!
Ya' just gotta' go be the freak show!