<body><div><img src="https://img.particlenews.com/image.php?type=thumbnail_580x000&amp;url=41PfPt_0ucHfZFc00" alt="https://img.particlenews.com/image.php?url=41PfPt_0ucHfZFc00" width="891" height="1081" >When it comes to free publicity, it’s hard to beat having your story published on the front page of The New York Times, above the fold, no less, so that it’s the first thing people see when they pick up the paper or log into its online paid account ($1 per week for a year’s subscription).Such was the case, though, for the flea market in Alamo on the northeast corner of Exp. 83 and Tower Road, as highlighted in the June 15, 2024, issue of The Times, in a story written by Edgar Sandoval, which carried this headline: “Not Your Average Flea Market: At La Pulga de Alamo, Stars Are Born.”Indeed.The Times Have ChangedBack in the 1980s, the flea market was busy on weekends, sure, but nothing like it is today, blowing and going most days, culminating in a party of sorts every Sunday when the action really starts to rumble.Now upscale with small store fronts of a sort with doors that can be locked for its vendors who pay hundreds per month for the space (size of a medium-sized storage unit with electricity), with old-school outdoor tables, so typical of your average flea market, still set up in full abundance for those on a tighter budget, the place is nothing like it once was back in the day when it first opened in the mid-1960s.Today, La Pulga (the flea) de Alamo has grown to encompass 70 acres, including prime expressway frontage acreage, and it draws people from across the Valley, the state, and points even further away to shop, try out the three dance floors, take pictures of the bearded guy who likes to glide across them in red six-inch platform high heels, and buy merch from hundreds of vendors throughout the week, with Sunday being the busiest day.In a world full of too much sorrow and sadness, the Alamo Flea Market offers a respite where people can also smile and laugh. As pointed out in the NY Times story, it’s also now turned into a dancing utopia where ordinary blue-collar workers become household names, courtesy of social media platforms like TikTok.“The market transforms from a shopping mecca into a one-of-a-kind dance hall whose fame has spread across the country and beyond,” reads the June 15th New York Times story.That’s never truer than on the weekends, when the shopping mecca is transformed into a one-of-a-kind dance hall where characters, if you will, in all shapes, colors, and sizes, glide across the floor, while spectators take videos and post them on social media.The afternoon heat index may be close to 100, but no one seems to care. They’re having too much fun.For some, almost overnight, they’re celebrities of a sort who soon gather a following. It doesn’t take long before people from near and far come to see them in person.Take the guy with the social-media handle of Bronco 956, whose real name is José Urbina.His claim to fame? He looks a lot like the lead singer of the popular Mexican band Grupo Bronco.At one time, people would pay him $25 if he’d let them take a selfie, just them and him. That side hustle has died down in terms of charging $25 for a single photo, but still, people come to see him and take photos, watch him bust a move on the dance floor, and then upload the content to one of several social-media platforms.Currently, Bronco’s Tik-Tok followers exceed approximately 140,000, which, when monetized, isn’t bad for a guy who looks like a celebrity and works as a plumber during the week.“I never thought that my life would change so dramatically just because people say I look like a singer — and at this age,” said Mr. Urbina, 53, whose satin black shirt exposed part of his chest. “But I love it, and I love my fans, too.” (Source: NY Times.)Then there is the guy in the bright red platform shoes with six-inch heels, El Divino Colombiano (the Divine Colombian), gliding across the “flea’s” dance floor. When he first showed up on the scene, you could tell the high heels were new, at least for him, as he tried hard not to break a leg. Now, he dances on them like he’s been wearing them his whole life.Every weekend, or so it seems, someone else becomes an internet celebrity of sorts.According to the Times story: “It all began with a popular video. In fall 2022, a regular shopper, Alejandro Barron, 60, spotted José Urbina on the dance floor, and noted that he had an uncanny resemblance to the Grupo Bronco lead singer, José Guadalupe Esparza. Mr. Barron uploaded a video of Mr. Urbina to TikTok with an unassuming caption: Even Lupe of the Bronco band dances at La Pulga de Alamo. The video became an online sensation.Others soon followed, including a guy known as “the Electric Shock,” who jerks around the dance floor as if he’s being shocked.There’s the guy wearing what looks like peacock feathers waving high above his head, somehow attached to his straw cowboy hat, giving new meaning to the word “macho.”Social media. Some people love it, some people hate it; but for the new celebrities at La Pulga (the flea) de Alamo, it has helped turn them into local celebrities, whose reach extends far and wide, courtesy of smart phones.In the NY Times story, for example, a 30-year-old woman drove five hours from Houston just to see El Bronco dance.More than that, she jumped on him while he was on the dance floor and wrapped her legs around his waist.“From the moment I saw him online, I knew he was the love of my life,” she said. “My dream came true today. I met El Bronco.”</div></body>

Mountain View, CA

NewsBreak

Alamo’s Flea Market is Buzzing

When it comes to free publicity, it’s hard to beat having your story published on the front page of The New York Times, above the fold, no less, so that it’s the first thing people see when they pick up the paper or log into its online paid account ($1 per week for a year’s subscription).