Down the Rabbit Hole: Expo Coin Immersion and a Snickers Bar

My eyes need a rest, as I have just returned from the Baltimore Expo. I examined perhaps a hundred coins, all of them up-close through a tiny magnifier lens with a hot lamp at my cheek.

My feet need a rest too. I walked all day, up and down aisles of tables, navigating an urgent crowd, all of them hunting for that special coin.

I also gave a presentation on Jamestown, telling stories about bent, holed, and folded coins that were magical. I was “on” and the hour seemed like minutes.

All of this was great fun, but it left me hypoglycemic. I had to run out for a Snickers bar – actually a Snickers first, then a sub.

Yes, the Expo is quite the immersion experience.

Dumpster Diving at the Expo

It is the tenth planet. Actually, it is a thousand different tenth planets.

Each collector has their own orbit, a grand vision, unique to them. And of course, each of us is relentless in our pursuit of the next coin – a want list in every pocket.

One man collects a single type of jetton (in copper, silver, whatever he can find). Another seeks medals depicting George Washington (medals, tokens, all of it). I even met a guy who collects “bridges” on coins (he is an engineer by trade – if that helps). And so it goes.

I like coins similar to those found in the dirt at Jamestown. Plus, other dug items. Relics – yes, that is my orbit -- lots of dumpster diving.

Each one of us has slipped down the rabbit hole.

You do not realize this when you are on the convention floor. How could you: everyone has a magnifying glass; everyone is hunting for the next one.

But, when you exit the big room, go up the stairs towards the sunlight, and press hard against the heavy glass doors, then you see. Like a rush of gale wind in the face, you are confronted with a whole world of non-collectors, just as urgent – cars honking, sirens wailing, shoes scuffing on pavement.

They have no idea what is going on in the convention center.

And, they don’t care.

The contrast is jolting.

I contemplated all of this while eating a sub at Jimmy Johns: No one out here cares about Jamestown or Washington!

If they were coaxed – and it would take some coaxing – to investigate the big room, many of them would think we were mad. But of course, they would be polite about it and remark that collecting seems like a nice respite from the hustle of life. (My wife puts it this way: “It is your break.”)

The problem is that I am not sure if I am breaking when I go out into the sun, or if I am breaking when I am peering at a relic through the lens.

I suppose that I am lucky in this way: frequently hypoglycemic and running out for Snickers.