It's been months since we'd gone to an auction. They'd changed a few things.

First thing we noticed was the coffee. What used to be 50 cents for a styrofoam cupful was still offered, but now the auctioneer's daughter, who runs the concessions, was offering something new.

Mug rentals.

For one dollar, you could rent a ceramic coffee mug for the day. With unlimited refills.

Heck of a deal. I haven't drunk so much coffee in one day since, well, since I was at the NEPA training in Capitol City last month.

So, it was environmentally more friendly, more profitable for her and her customers, and a great use of the trays and trays of ugly coffee mugs that they couldn't sell at a recent auction.

Coffee stayed hotter, too.

They had a new spotter, too. A large fellow, in a bright blue shirt. Apparently an auctioneer in training. The entire time he was scanning the crowd, his lips were moving in perfect synchrony with the real auctioneer's voice. He had the rhythm, the jumps and drops in prices all down pat.

It was weird to watch. Like a ventriloquist with a huge dummy in a blue shirt.

He got called out several times, too. Missed bids because he was too busy watching the auctioneering action, rather than just the folks on his side of the room.

When opening a wooden box, the auctioneer announced loudly, and excitedly, that it contained a flashlight and...

Toenail clippers!

And he said it just like that. Crowd didn't let him live it down for a while.

Another small cedar box had this verse on it:

"I turned a trick on the train,

And I thought of you."

No, really.

When trying to get bids started on a bathtub whirlpool massage, Grandpa finally had to go down to five dollars, and then immediately announced it sold.

"You got two bidders! Why'd you sell it?" his son challenged.

"He was first!" came the response. "Can't we have some fun, too?"

Two young women, one of them a new mother, walked by my aisle seat early in the auction. One of them, and I know not which, was wearing the same perfume as one of the dancers in Capitol City.

They say smell brings back the strongest memories, and they're right. All of a sudden, I wasn't thinking about rusty old antique tools anymore. Or the wife leaning against me from the next chair.

Weird.

But pleasant.

The wife wasn't so amused when I told her.

One lamp was described as being decorated with "genuine imitation rubies".

Another hurricane lamp was described as an "antique." Maybe I'm just getting old, but if it's electric, I don't consider it to be "antique". I'm not even sure if you should call it a "hurricane lamp" if it's electric.

As usual, there were several pieces that came out of boxes that clearly should have gone with items sold earlier. And, as usual, the errant parts were handed over to the original buyer, rather than making them bid on the new lot. In one case, the main item had been sold much earlier, and the buyer had already left. But a fellow in the back claimed to be the buyer's neighbor, and offered to take the pieces to him.

Yeah, the auctioneer gave him the pieces.

And yeah, I'm sure he'll deliver them where they need to go.

That's the kind of place we live in.

Going up to two tall, wooden bookcases the auctioneer announced they were selling a pair of fine "etergees".

But you can use them as bookcases if you want.

I was tempted to bid on some antique sterling silver jewelry. Could've gotten away with it too, since the wife was in the bathroom at the time (all that coffee, you know), but thought better of it. It wasn't that it was attractive jewelry, because it wasn't. But it was stamped "Made in Siam".

Man, how long has it been since Thailand was officially known as Siam?

A cute ceramic piggy bank was sold as is, without looking at the coins that filled it half-way up. Went for over thirty dollars. Don't know if it was for the bank, or if someone peeked at the coins.

Three trays of junk, including another bank containing at least eight dollars worth of quarters, was sold for $7.50.

Really.

The professional antique dealers were there in force, as well as the dedicated amateurs. Not many great deals. One local dealer bought an antique slot machine bank from Vegas. And pulled the handle, testing his luck, the rest of the auction.

Two framed trays of about 20-25 arrowhead points went for over $60 each.

An antique child's spring-suspended rocking horse had three main bidders. Two young couples with little ones in hand, and a dealer.

Dealer won, at $57.

Craaap.

When selling two wall clocks, Grandpa announced they would sell them both for one money. Auctioneer pointed out one clock was badly broken.

"Then we'll just sell you one, and throw the other one in free."

Since when did 8-track tapes become "very, very collectible"? Since the whole box went for three bucks, I think maybe he was exagerating a tad.

When the rolltop desk from the optometrist's office came up, the auctioneer could honestly declare it had had only one owner. Since they're the ones who sold it to him.

Over thirty years ago.

Grandpa to a grumbling couple in the front row who missed out on an item when they stepped out of the room:

"If you wouldn't eat so much, and pay closer attention, you'd be alright."

When an antique accessory to a miter box came up (there was a lot of old tools at this one), the auctioneer announced that he had one of these. And this was the best one today.

But he still couldn't tell us what it was.

Another tool dug out of an old box was also unidentified. But the patent stamped on it was June 20, 1898.

A box of hammers yielded one that grandpa "had never seen before in my life". And that's saying something. Like a skinny ball-peen with a square head.

Anybody know what a "clevis" is? I watched him sell a couple, and I still don't know.

Bill, one of the spotters, clearly strained to get a heavy end table up on the block. Effort that he shrugged off when the auctioneer told him to just leave it on the floor.

"You're sick," the boss said, "You need to be committed."

A short while later, when they finally got around to the snowmobile that so many people had come for, a voice in the back rang out:

"Hey Bill, can you put that up on the table so I can get a better look?"

Planning on setting up a survivalist place of your own in the wilds? For ten dollars, someone got themselves the complete McNiff's kit, including the yellowed instruction books, for building your own cinder blocks.

One block at a time.

The gals running the concessions come into the auction garage regularly when there's something they're after. While trying to sell a homemade workbench, the auctioneer tried to describe where the tool drawer was from across the room. One of the concessionaires stepped forward, pulled the drawer out, and made a perfect The Price is Right dip with arm in the air.

Yeah, we applauded.

She got red.

A gal behind us, in a Blair Witch Project shirt, paid close attention on her items but tended to chat animatedly with folks nearby when she wasn't interested in items on the block. Midway through all the beds, my wife tapped her on her side.

"You're bidding," she quietly announced.

Ummm, no. The lady did not want a box spring and mattress set.

The crowd had thinned out by the time the two large, gorgeous red dishes came up. Took the experts in the crowd several minutes to convince the auctioneer these were not called "cranberry glass" nor "cranberry splash", but were instead "cranberry flash".

Gal in the witch shirt was audibly thrilled when she got both for $20.

When they move to the side of the room for the furniture or larger tools, it's not uncommon for knick-knack buyers to head up front and take a last look at glassware items yet to be sold.

I tell you, it is a little strange to see an unshaven biker guy, complete with long hair, dirty cap, leather gloves and leather vest, picking daintily amongst the china pieces.

The antique dentistry and x-ray cabinet brought back unpleasant memories for the auctioneer. He remembered it from the dentist's office, a chamber of torture for children in the community when he was a boy.

Originally from Dr. Pepper's office.

Really.

A couple was caught bidding against each other. Grandpa agreed to back the price down and resume bidding, but "if they do it again, we're keeping it."

Items of note:

A Kodak Brownie Hawkeye camera, in original box - $2.50.
An ugly Roseville (aren't they all?) hanging planter - $100.
A Hall Autumn pitcher with small chip and hairline cracks at the spout - $5.
Another Hall Autumn pitcher, no defects - $20.

The wife had pointed out an iron horse in one pallet of ceramics. A really dynamic, mane-flying sculpture. Bidding went up over 30 dollars, between a dealer and the grandmother-type lady sitting next to us.

Grandmother won. And immediately handed the horse over to the young girl who had been sitting so patiently on those hard, boring seats all day.

And that was what they came for.

We apparently came for the ambiance and entertainment. And bottomless coffee. Only bid on two items, in all six hours we were there. Got the one we wanted the most, surprisingly cheap considering the local dealers that were there.

A box with six old, filthy ceramic sugar, toothpick and cream bowls.

Each complete with the logo of our local, historic hotel. We've been kicking ourselves ever since we let a set of the old hotel dishes get sold to someone else, at something like $18 per plate.

Plates would be better, but at least we've got the cafeteria's condiments. Worse comes to worse, the museum would be happy to take them.