Not as bad as the names makes it out to be, ‘The Interactive Skin Museum’ is suitable for all ages and does occasionally surprise travelers with little informational tidbits in the style of the true museum. We are happy to, once again, award the institution with the yearly ‘Pretty Bearable, all things considered’ award. It is well deserved.’
Sometimes, like this time, the Guide sets me up for disappointment. On average I would say that those destinations the Guide warns against are as bad, or a little less bad, than stated on the page. Alternatively, I would say that those places it describes as good (or in this case, bearable) are routinely significantly worse. Maybe this a quirk of author bias. Maybe money is being passed under the table. More likely than not, these places are just aging poorly and, if they’re aware of their ranking in the Guide, they may be letting things slip a little past the wiggle room suggested by any dubious honor Autumn by the Wayside deems fit to offer.
Take ‘The Interactive Skin Museum,’ for instance. Like Boring, OR and Butthole, MA, ‘The Interactive Skin Museum’ has doubled down on their provocative name to sell stupid merch and generally draw in visitors that otherwise wouldn’t care about animal pelts, which is at the core of the actual experience. The ‘skin’ in question here is the pelts and the ‘interactivity’ is a total freedom to touch and wear those pelts, some of which, if their information is true and correct, come from endangered or even extinct species. These rarities are thrown so casually in with the common skins of North American forest animals that one has to question exactly what experience the owners of ‘The Interactive Skin Museum’ hope people have. If it’s not an appreciation for (and mourning of) the skins of lost species, is it a reconnection with nature? A themed sensory experience? A marketing ploy?
Employees of ‘The Interactive Skin Museum’ are required to remark positively on the skin of every visitor. They are not allowed, however, to purposefully touch a visitor’s skin except in emergencies. These details are known because a copy of the museum’s employee handbook leaked onto the internet last year. The handbook is long and thorough and one of the emergencies it lists as an acceptable time to engage in physical contact with a visitor is during a ‘skin fire,’ which is not defined. A boxed-off tip near the bottom of the emergency situation guide encourages employees to comment positively on the skin of visitors’ even during a crisis.
To calm things.
The actual museum is a warehouse that is, I would say, half pelts and half the sort of dusty insects that consume pelts in an uncontrolled environment. Moths, mostly, and silver fish. Still, people can’t help but want to drape themselves in the skin of a buffalo before encouraging their traveling partners to then dress in, say, the hide of a tiger. Two animals that would not likely meet naturally. The internet is filled with images of these combinations fighting. Mating. Performing brief, sitcom-like skits. Some of it is actually pretty funny, until you have experienced the smell of the place, which is not sharp, really, or rotting but definitely bad. Moldering in a meaty way. Dry, like a rash in the fold of skin.
The Guide draws the line at ‘bearable,’ reusing the same image of an uncredited man wearing a bearskin and standing atop a pile of deer pelts for nearly a decade of new editions to drive the point home. I guess I can’t disagree as I can count myself among those who have borne it.
But it’s still worse than I expect.
-traveler
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