MSU-Mankato Surplus Sale

It is a miracle I walked out of there empty handed, a matter of self control, a matter of, well, I had a GOT TO PEE BAD and PEE NOW situation on my hands.

The word on the street is that FIVE randal pottery wheels are getting surplused and sold. Some thought they would go for dirty dirt cheap this semester. Some said September. Either which way I got my ass to the sale at 7:15 a.m.

I'd heard that people will line up for the surplus sale starting at 4:00 a.m. I'd heard some camp out all night. For the most part, this is entirely true and entirely wrapped around the idea of buy computers and other electronics for next to nothing--all computers go for $35, the majority of monitors go for $25. You can buy a baby grand piano for $75. You can buy a nice office desk for $20. You can put in a bid on a fishing boat and trailer included. You can buy anything that the university is getting rid of because of upgrades.

At 7:15 a.m. there must have been 150 people in line already. Even if there were a pottery wheel available, which I doubted due to the fact I saw them in the cermaics studio on Friday, my chances were pretty shot.

At the front of the line was an army of twenty to thirty absolute nerdy, gawky, gangly computer types who looked liked maybe they played and extended session of Dungeons and Dragons in the parking lot all night. A small sacrifice for cheap computers.

I stood in line drinking coffee thinking this would be complete chaos as soon as the massive garage door to the sale goods inside the surplus garage opened. Parents were telling their children DON'T WALK OFF, STAY WITH US, STAY IN SIGHT. One guy said, Why don't they just open the goddamn doors already. I sipped my coffee while preparing to elbow and be elbowed. I sharpened my ninja skills, my ballet moves to gracefully slide around people in a panic driven crowd.

As I was bullshitting with some African guys the doors opened. The African dude had been going down the list of sale items with a pink pen in hand listing the items he wanted to go for first. I said, "Good luck, dude. Hang on to that pen or someone will pick it up. I have the feeling nothing is safe here unless it is in your hand."

That warning was a little like Hunter S. Thompson's in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas "We're in Bat Country. Poor bastard is on his own."

Either which way, the crowd was moving, the game was on. I was ready.

You know how hoards of fish surface and roll around when people pay 25 cents to feed them, how there is a frenzy of rolling and eating and some fish fight with each other? That's pretty much how the surplus sale went.

By the time I got inside the surplus garage, all good laptops and flat screen monitors and classroom projectors had vanished into the hands of the nerdy, the not so nerdy, and the homeless looking. It took me under five minutes to get into the garage, too.

People were scattering like ants, rifling through computers, tools, office supplies and all the whatnot. Electronic guys were on their cell phones already selling the laptops and nice Apple computers and flat screens. Electronic guys were saying, Hey, I'll buy that computer from you right now for fifty cash.

In about forty mintues all the good stuff was claimed, lines were drawn, territory was claimed. I picked up a nice looking backpacking backpack and a man said, PLEASE DON'T TOUCH THAT. IT'S MINE while he was looking at microscopes. I thought, What dipshit puts down his bag at a fucking frenzy sale like this?

My favorite moment was the mother who was standing beside the baby grand piano marked $75. She held her son by the hand. He was having an absolute fit and crying and shouting and she was trying to keep him quiet. The look on her face and body language said, You touch this fuckin' piano and I'll break your face. I thought it was a kind of a beautiful and complex emotional moment. How the son, probably seven, might remember his fit, his crying infront of all of these strangers panicing like ants swarming in an ant mound. How the mom will remember his fit and how she just wanted this piano for herself, for her kids, for her family. That the way we bring art into our homes requires some emotional sacrifice sometimes. That no kid or adult can get a $75 baby grand piano without giving up a little something first. I like to think that that little boy might be the next Chopin or Motzart. I like to think that people will gather in concert halls to see him play and even if he messes up in his performance, even if he tanks, even if he screws the pooch more than anyone thought the pooch could be screwed, it wouldn't be as bad as his first experience with the piano. That from this day on, his relationship with the piano is complex.

If I had gone into the surplus sale with buy buy buy on my mind I probably would have forgetten all about that as soon as I saw the people reacting to this situation. I couldn't keep myself from looking at this man and woman debating on if they should buy an old card catalogue cabinet. The man said, I could keep my paints in here. I thought, That's a lot of fucking paints. The woman said, Where will we put it? The man said, We could put it in the garage or the shed. The woman rolled her eyes.

That's exactly how I am. I buy shit and collect shit and keep shit that I think I'll use someday or invent a purpose for. Once, I kept a bunch of old wooden futon frames in my apartment with the idea that I could use the wood to make a little boat. Once, I riffled through a dumpster just for some five inch think binders. I've been trying to thwart my bullshit collecting, getting a grip on what I need and what is needed right now. It's pretty hard for me. But I'm working on it.

In all of of my debating on what to buy and not buy--I looked at an outboard motor, some computers, thought about putting a bid on a fishing boat, thought about carting off a desk I don't need, shelves I don't need, tools I could live without right now--the PEE BAD GODS said we must leave. We must leave right now. I could hold it no longer. Pissing on a tree in the parking lot was considered. Too many people. I could piss in a cup in the car. No cups.

I drove 45 mph straight to Nelson Hall (the art building). I slammed on the breaks, hopped out, keyed into the building. I made a full out sprint, Maurce Green eat your heart out, to the bathroom next to the wheel cermaics studio. Inside the bathroom I did the PEE PEE DANCE while fiddling with my zipper before the pure pleasure of urine vacating a maxed out bladder.

In the midst of patting my own pack for not pissing myself and not buying anything at the surplus sale I looked inside the ceramics studio. The wheels are still there. September, I told myself. And, yes, I do plan to drive back up here for one of those wheels. I might even stay up in the parking lot all night with the nerds playing D & D. Maybe my character will be a wizard or a mage. Someone who casts spells would be nice.