Babycakes and I don’t travel anywhere without the help of Roadside America. We like to cram fiberglass into our lives and offer votives to Clark Griswold in our personal at-home shrine. Growing up, my family went so far as to get a vanity license plate that read “WALLY” for the succession of wood-paneled station wagons my Dad went through. As if I weren’t cool enough at school already with my wicked musical routines.
A friend was getting hitched in West Virginia, so Roadside America directed us to Phillipi, WV. No need for travel to Egypt - there are mummies in America for God’s sake. Mummies in West Virginia. In a bathroom. Think about it. Click on the link if you want the background, otherwise I’ll just fill you in on our experience.
The Mummies of the Insane are actually housed in the County Historical Museum and we arrived before they opened. Killing time in Phillipi took a little work - it’s not like there’s a 7-11 where you can purchase Fun-Dip, so we loitered until a little old lady pulled up to open shop. Now this is a nice, if smallish, museum with some Civil War items and old farming equipment. We were too ashamed to admit that we were only there for the mummies when the lady asked us if we’d like to look around - which is about the ONLY reason we know what the rest of the place looks like. I gritted my teeth studying the rusty plows and then sheepishly went back up to the counter to fork over the extra dollar to see the mummies. The dollar goes to a college fund so you’d be a real bastard NOT to see the mummies, right?
The mummies get their own personal room in what used to be a bathroom. All the bathroom stuff is still in there with a couple mummies crammed on top. Freaking Awesome! And only ONE DOLLAR! Where else can you have that much fun for ONE DOLLAR anymore? Besides the giant sombrero at South of the Border.
Babycakes and I eased on in to the mummy bathroom where we started snapping pictures and briefly considered making out.
There’s not so much to do with the mummies after the pictures are taken and you’ve nixed the whole making-out thing, so we said our goodbyes and found a few fiberglass folks on the road to the wedding.
(to be continued…)
(Mom, I'm sorry for grabbing the mountain man's crotch.) (and capturing it on film) (and putting it on this blog for all your friends to see)
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