Gatlinburg, Day 6: Salt n Pepa Shaker Museum

If it weren’t for Roadside America, I probably wouldn’t have been tipped off to the Museum of Salt and Pepper Shakers; it wasn’t listed anywhere with the rest of Gatlinburg’s attractions. (Maybe it needs a “Ripley’s” added to the front.)

At $3 per person (Chooch was free), it was the cheapest thing we did all week.

The joint is curated by an older woman from Belgium named Allison (I believe I read also that she is an archeologist); she greeted us with a thick French accent and bright emerald green eyeliner that matched her dress. After paying, she Vanna’d her hand over to the entrance, gave us a brief explanation of why she collects them (to display the creativity of the shakers’ makers, natch) and said, “Voila!”

“I love her!” I gushed to Henry after we entered the first room of the collection, which was staggering; over 20,000 so far. She has them all displayed behind glass in sections labeled “Wooden,” “Christmas,” “Transportation,” “Fruits,” and on and on.

I was worried that Chooch was going to be bored, but he was really into it and begged us to buy a set from the gift shop. (We didn’t. Had she had any creepy religious sets to offer, though, I’d have been all the fuck over it like Snooki on a gorilla juice head.

Chooch never shut up, he was so excited to point out the ones that he liked and tried to find ones he thought I would like too. Thankfully, there was only one other couple in there with us: a girl and what appeared to be her Hasidic Jew friend, but ended up being her hipster boyfriend.

(Shout out to my SLC pal Brandy!)

The couple was mostly inoffensive until she pulled out a box of Raisinets like this was some new wave still life movie theater and began chewing in a fashion which allowed me to hear each bite being sucked off her molars by tongue-power and then she also started talking while this was playing out in her mouth and even worse, she and her hipster-bearded beau started getting all cutesy and romantical over the bridal shakers and I was starting to re-taste my morning oatmeal.

While we were in there, some bitch blew through the front door and attempted to go straight into the exhibit. Allison stopped her and said it was $3 to view. The girl was all offended by this and exclaimed rudely, “You have to PAY for this?” She wound up leaving in a huff. Bitch, go then. I love weird little roadside attractions like this and have no problem shelling out a few bucks — this lady spent the better part of her life collecting these overlooked pieces of art. $3 and a little respect is the least we can give.

I bought some postcards after the tour and as I handed them to her, she joyfully sang out, “Oui Oui!” I wish she was my grandma.

A+. Organized hoarding at its best.