6 p.m. There’s a quickening energy. Most of the permanent buildings have opened — the cosmetic shop, the boot place, the cell phone stores. The sun is dipping and the crowds are coming. And coming.
7 p.m. A line has formed outside Savage Cutz, a barbershop in a buffed-up trailer. Samuel Lossou, a 14-year-old Doolen Middle School student, patiently waits his turn. “He’s really good,” he says of barber Armando Ortiz.
7:30 p.m. The music has gotten louder, the food lines longer, and cars are lined up all the way to Palo Verde Road. Drivers crawl along, looking for parking in the meet’s large lot. Overhead lights illuminate the merchandise and crowd. The mini Ferris wheel spins, the 1940s-era merry-go-round has children and parents going in circles, and the jumping castle heaves with bouncing children. Walking down the aisles isn’t as easy as it was earlier.
8 p.m. Jaiden Wikel warms up the crowd. As the “Macarena” booms, people drop their shopping bags and line up behind him to join in the dance. At the other end of the swap meet, a live band has taken the stage, and young children have climbed onto the six ponies that will take them for a ride around a ring. Proud parents, who just plopped down $4 for a ride, snap pictures and make videos with their phones.
8:30 p.m. Ortiz is still cutting hair at Savage Cutz. He bought the trailer for $300 and he and Paul Ruiz gutted it and turned it into an inviting barbershop: wood floors, two barber chairs, a sink. Music plays — right now it’s country western — a TV flickers, and waiting customers sit in and outside the trailer, which has a row of tiny white lights around the roof and a working barber’s pole at the front door. Ortiz smiles as he calls, “Next.”
9 p.m. Carter — he goes by just that one name — staffs that mini Ferris wheel, a child in each of the enclosed basket seats. The lights are bright and the kids seem giddy. The Ferris wheel use to be a fixture at the Fourth Avenue Street Fair, but when the owners retired, Carter was ready to take it over. He brings it to the swap meet almost every weekend, where he charges $3 for a ride. If he isn’t here, he’s at a party or another function. “It can plug into any house outlet,” he says. Behind him you can see the headlights of cars that continue to stream in.
9:15 p.m. John Dunckley is busy serving a group of customers who have gathered around his jewelry stand. Turnage, the knife seller, has a thinner crowd. He hasn’t been terribly busy, he says. His grandson Alex, is still hanging in there. He’s not bored, he insists.
9:30 p.m. Walking up and down the aisles is near impossible they are so crowded. Families, young couples, teens — they stroll at a snail’s pace. One person with a child in her arms pushes a stroller carrying a large-screen TV. Viet Lee and his wife, Lilly hold hands as they look over some toy trucks. The couple has left their young child with a sitter so they could take in the swap meet’s party atmosphere. They do this every couple of months. Tonight, they are looking for toys — “For our child. And for me,” says Lilly.
