Chicago - How a hobby becomes a life

Way out in Wheaton, a Chicago suburb known for its theological college and therefore high density of affluent Christians, past a shitload of “Study For Jesus” signs, you’ll find Scott Smith’s All Animal Expo, held bi-monthly at a local fairground. This is where thousands of animal-obsessed freaks gather to show off, trade, buy, and sell “exotic” animals, and mingle with kindred animal lovers. I went there recently with some friends and found that most of the other visitors and vendors are your typical overweight I-went-too-far-with-my-hobby-and-now-it's-a-lifestyle suburbanites who’re way out in ho-ho land.

A whole group of them hang out emulating flying squirrel squeaks, dressed in homemade costumes of their favorite rare animals, dying for people to guess which animal they are, only to correct them, and point out, that they are in fact an even rarer animal—so rare that only they have ever heard of it. They keep their own animals, more often than not reptiles, in to-go containers.  Many of the animals are curled up and unable to move.

These are the “sale” item animals. The vendors of these tables sit looking angry and bored, like it’s a foreclosure moving-out sale. Prices range from clearance animals starting as low as $5 to $3,000 for a silly turtle stolen from China.

The crowd that comes to fluff their own feathers roost near the entrance. They bring their adored exotic pets to exhibit to other enthusiasts.

The lady pictured above has an obsession with rabbits. She lets them give her hickeys. Evidently, she is not the only one—another friend told me that at a reptile expo a few years ago she met a scrawny teenager with washed-out green hair who let a snapping turtle give him love bites.

There are people looking for partners for their creatures, and seemingly themselves too. If I could find an online profile for any one of these folks, I’d imagine he or she would list Zoo as a favorite movie.

As the expo neared closing time there were not too many people left, but one lady batted her eyes at us. “Check it out—this beauty prize-winner can down these things, just like that,” she said as she set out a live pigmy mouse in front of us. Not a way to impress the kids, lady.

I wondered how the hell such a flagrantly abusive event takes place. Buyers require no licenses, no permits, no knowledge of the animals they buy and take home in the dozens. As we left, I looked around at all the sick, bloated, happy faces of irresponsible people who were leaving with their new animals, destined for tortured short lives in suburban homes, only to be discarded later. Then the reptile and exotic animal rescue centers are there to clean up their mess.

Totally gross though the cycle may be, I entered it myself. Behold my new pet Slither!

I’ve got to dumpster a cage for him, because he doesn’t look too happy in the salad bowl I got him in. He’ll have to get used to not being my only baby, because I’m going back to the expo next week, and I’ve already nearly forgotten about him in the animal craze I’ve found myself in. Who wants to move to the suburbs?