1 p.m. It’s been slow. And hot. The comic book and 99-cent stores are closed, the tot-sized Ferris wheel is still. Vendors sit under the parasols they hope to sell, while mattresses, furniture and cars for sale are ready for customers. Ben William has given up and left, with those high heels in tow. Most know buyers won’t be here for a few more hours. “It’s a little slow when it’s this hot,” says the knife seller, Turnage. “It’ll pick up later.”
1:30 p.m. Nick Billhardt is braving that heat and doing some shopping. He’s hauling a couple of plastic patio tables, a cell phone case, and some CDs and DVDs he and his mother, Debi, visiting from Ohio, have bought. “All told, I’ve spent just about $80,” Nick says proudly. That includes an oversized ceramic turtle he got his girlfriend.
2 p.m. Some of the cars that trickled in early in the day are beginning to trickle out. Tanque Verde divides Saturdays and Sundays into two shifts, 7 a.m.-3 p.m. and 3 p.m.-11 p.m., charging vendors for each. Bill Sharp is packing up his microwave and coolers. “I did OK, not great,” he says. “I’m not gonna spend another $15 to be here; not when there’s a UA game on.” Tip off for the University of Arizona-Wisconsin game is just after 3 p.m.
2:30 p.m. There’s a long line of vehicles, three abreast, at the vendors’ entrance, ready to take on the second shift. Pick-up trucks are piled high with merchandise. Some vendors pull trailers, others have flatbeds. They wander out of their cars, visiting with each other as they wait.
3 p.m. The line begins to slowly move, and drivers focus on getting to work. One car slips in front of another. A horn blares. “Hey,” yells the man cheated out of his place. “That’s not fair!” Nobody pays much mind; the line keeps moving. A shopper just inside the vendors’ entrance spots a bicycle on top of a truck rolling in. She follows it to the seller’s space.
3:30 p.m. The music blares from a permanent space near one of the swap meet’s 12 entrances. About four months ago, Kellie Wikel and her husband purchased the building, and gave their 14-year-old son, Jaiden, a 10 percent interest. Every night at 7, Jaiden steps outside the booth and starts dancing — the electric slide, the Macarena, and whatever else seems in order. The space is packed with CDs, DVD’s, sunglasses, colognes — “If you can’t find it here, it doesn’t exist” says Kellie. The music creates an energy and draws people like a magnet.
4 p.m. The Basset Hound Rescue group is packing up. The Tanque Verde Swap Meet allows nonprofits to set up a few times a month at no cost. “We do our two spots on one day,” says Holly Shinn, who, on this Saturday, manned the booth with a couple of other volunteers. They sell donated items, with proceeds going directly to the group. It’s not a big moneymaker for them, but it’s something. “We might make $300 or so, and all it cost was our time,” says Shinn.
4:30 p.m. Marshane Graves sits under a canopy, paraphernalia from the Denver Broncos and the Indianapolis Colts neatly laid before him. The UA graduate once played football for those teams. “It’s a hobby,” says Graves about the swap meet. “I come out and autograph pictures and things, try to put a little taste on it.” In a space just behind Graves is Darryl Clack, retired Dallas Cowboy player. He’ll autograph merchandise from that team. He comes down from Phoenix for occasional weekends at the swap meet. His aim is to raise money for Sportmetric, an organization that teaches young athletes that community and school are just as important as the sports they want to play.
5 p.m. The UA game is winding down and it is clear the Cats are going to lose to Wisconsin. Radios and TVs are still blaring at various spots, but the viewers are subdued. While there are more shoppers than earlier, most are interested in the game, not the merchandise. Vendors move items around, spiff up their space. They know it won’t be long now.
