‘Any sane tourist would ignore signage for ‘People Pearls’ based on the name alone but, as though a double-dare will do the trick, the enterprise is fairly transparent in advertisements. “This is a collection of bodily stones,” they say, “Bladder stones. Kidney stones. Tonsil, prostate, pancreas.” More surprising, perhaps, is that ‘People Pearls’ offers no justification, no context, for such a collection. It makes no effort to entice travelers that may be on the fence. It does not meditate on the medical significance of the stones or offer its profits up to any sort of cause. It uses images that are difficult to decipher- grotesque close-ups that might be mistaken for alien landscapes or the warning labels on cigarettes. The only claim made by ‘People Pearls’ is that theirs is the largest collection of its kind and one can’t help but be thankful that this is the worst of it, that nobody else has manifested such a grotesque idea.’
A true mark of the side-of-the-road museum is that there is no real distinction between the collection and the gift shop. By throwing it all into one big room, everything becomes an artifact and everything sprouts a price tag. ‘People Pearls’ is no different. There are bins of jagged little stones set up with scoops and shovels, advertising mix and match prices by the bag. There are so-called precious stones, bought off of celebrity doctors and polished into jewelry. There is a foul smell in the air and, overtop it, something that’s meant to be maskingly pleasant. They combine into a sort of sweet bile potpourri and even the man behind the counter seems sickly for it. I tell him I’m only browsing and he reminds me it’s a museum, as though he’s offended I might mistake is for a store. Capitalist ventures have a way of making good people feel guilty. That or he relies on an educational grant to keep the lights on.
I nod.
For a quarter I’m able to purchase a stone at random from a repurposed gumball machine. It arrives in a clear plastic sphere.
“Lucky,” the man says, seeing what I pulled.
He doesn’t elaborate and I don’t ask for clarification. I will never open the sphere for fear that the stone will somehow work its way inside me. Irrational, maybe, but stranger things have happened.
There is a set of infant rattles near the exit, also for sale. I give one a shake and the man looks as though he’s waiting for me to ask what they could possibly have to do with ‘People Pearls.’
I don’t give him the satisfaction, thinking that the confirmation could work its way inside me the same way the stone might.
-traveler
