Then, the weirdest thing happened. On our way home, we passed through a small town called Drytown. There was an antique store on the side of the freeway with it's doors wide open, and a bunch of stuff on display outside. We pulled over, and went inside. This place was insane. The picture below is only a small part of the front of the store. It was packed from ceiling to wall with stuff, and a lot of it was actually really good antiques. I found a bunch of amazing cross stitches, and a whole collection of beer steins [Jordan collects them]. Nothing had prices on them, however, so I asked Jordan to find the owner. Well, guess what? He couldn't find anyone. We looked and looked, but we were all alone. Outside there was a truck, with it's keys just sitting on a table nearby. We even went to the antique furniture store next door, but it was empty as well. Jordan got creeped out and said if we stayed any longer, we'd probably get murdered by the 'town-folk'. I didn't want to leave without all the stuff I found, but he won [for now]. Our conclusion was that the owner was either drunk at the bar across the street, or was killed and we just didn't see the body.
And I'm being serious when I say that this picture only shows a small part of the store. Crazy, huh? I can't wait to go back.