I know the market‘s real, but it’s been at least a year since I got to prowl the rows and inspect the stalls. Most Tuesdays, the closest I get is the corner of Adeline Street and Martin Luther King Jr. Way.
A day like today, I can hang for a while at the corner of 63rd and King streets, lying in wait and hoping a parking space will open up. I watch pedestrians and cyclists wobble and wheel in and out, toting produce and balancing boxes.
I’ve even seen some drivers park right on red-curb edges or against the fire hydrant at the northeast corner. Not me, though. I marvel at their luck but know my luck’s only so lucky.