Show Me the Reptiles

All three of my boys love animals, which tracks, given how important they are in my own life. But it was my oldest who was obsessed with all things scaly since birth. When he was two, I caught him hiding under the kitchen table, petting the goldfish he’d somehow caught with his bare hands. By the time he was three, he knew he wanted to be a herpetologist. (And yes, he knew the word.) For his third birthday, I decorated the whole house in pictures of reptiles that I’d printed off the internet–no small feat in the days of dial-up.

Like so many, I’d been raised to fear snakes. Unlike my parents, I respected them, but I wasn’t about to cozy up to one. I did get Dylan a leopard gecko that year. He named her Mushu. Throughout the years, he begged for reptiles, and I did my best to meet him halfway with things I felt comfortable with: lizards, frogs, and even a tortoise. I told him he could get a snake when he turned 18 because I didn’t want the responsibility of it to fall to me. And that’s exactly what he did: he bought himself a ball python the moment he turned 18. His younger brother promptly named the creature Jeff. Which, admittedly, showed a bit more creativity than the name he gave the cat. I tried to name her Violet. To this day, she’s simply Cat.

It was around that time that we stumbled across an ad for a reptile expo coming to town. We scraped our pennies together and went. The entry fee wasn’t much, but for a single mom trying to feed three teenage boys, the extra $10 a head felt like a fortune. But once we got there, I knew immediately it was worth every penny. The place was pure magic.

Soon, we were following the expo all over the state. It was based out of Missouri, which felt a little like learning a favorite celebrity was from your home town. Dylan, naturally, was in heaven every time we went. I treasured the look of pure joy on his face as he interacted with species he’d only read about. He could sometimes be so serious, as if he bore more weight on his young shoulders than was fair or right. To give him one afternoon of simply being happy around the animals he loved so much was something I craved. His smile could light up a room on those days.

My middle son soon purchased his first reptile: a crested gecko he named Nubs because it had dropped its tail. (Like most lizards, crested geckos can drop their tails if they’re startled. Unlike other lizards, theirs doesn’t grow back. The result is pretty danged cute.) My youngest went to spend time with us—it wasn’t his thing and still isn’t, but he supported his brothers in their endeavors.

In truth, I’d sometimes get a little overwhelmed at the expos. There were so many people packed into those exhibit halls, and I have always gotten overstimulated so easily. But it was worth it. The people were so kind, and there were so many animals to see and interact with. Not just reptiles and amphibians, but other exotics as well. I pet my first hedgehog at a Show Me show—and my first sugar glider, too. The vendors were always so willing to talk about the animals they loved, and I soaked up every bit of the knowledge they imparted.

Fast forward a few years, and my middle son got engaged to a beautiful, fiery woman with a passion for animals, especially reptiles. (By that time, Dylan was also engaged to a beautiful and kind woman who loved reptiles as much as he did.) But it was Blake’s fiancee who got a job at the Show Me Reptile shop in Troy. Despite having followed their expos around the state for years, I had no idea such a thing existed. To say I was jealous paints too ugly of a picture, but I have to be honest and admit that if I’d lived closer to the shop and they’d ask, I’d have happily cut my salary in half to leave my corporate gig and spend my days in that store. Maybe wistful is a better description than jealous.

Anyway, it was through that connection that Blake wound up being hired by the company to coordinate the shows we’d loved for so long. My son had just landed the dream job of traveling all over the country to put on reptile shows. Of that, I was jealous. I was beyond happy for him, but still a bit envious. Two things can be true. The job was exhausting and intense, but he was experiencing things I could have only dreamed of at his age, and that made my heart sing for him.

Blake convinced me that I needed to sign up for Show Me as a vendor. My addiction to houseplants had gotten a bit out of control, so it didn’t take long to divide out my unruly jungle to easily fill a table or two at shows. I’d had an idea for a plant store bumping around my brain for a few months. This wasn’t exactly a store, but it was a start, so I created a DBA and signed up for my first expo as Urban Fae. It was a wholly new experience, being behind the table for a show instead of being a customer, but I loved it. I’d done countless events throughout my career in marketing and actually missed them. This brought back happy memories of that time. The other vendors welcomed me with a warmth you don’t often see in this world. I found myself signing up for shows for the experience as much as the boost to our income.

Not too terribly long after that, the company wound up hiring my husband, Justin. We quickly realized that we didn’t do well being apart as often as the job demanded—coordinators are on the road four out of seven days, three out of four weeks, 52 weeks a year. At least. I felt trapped because we had animals at home that I couldn’t leave, especially the dogs. But Justin adored his job and I couldn’t ask him to quit. He was happier than I’d seen him in a while.

And then one day Micky, the founder of Show Me, told Justin he was really happy with him and asked if there was anything he needed, anything about the job he would change if he could. Justin said, “I miss my wife.”

So, Micky hired me. I was a “coordinator helper,” at first. Not really part of the company, just traveling with Justin to shows to help set up the day before and run the door during the show so Justin could take care of vendors and deal with the general chaos that happens behind the scenes at any event. We took our dogs with us, hiring dog sitters in every new city to watch them while I worked. Urban Fae got demoted to hobby, which was fine with me. Treating my plants like a business took the joy out of it. Kind of like writing.

After a few months of that, our older dog’s health started to decline, so we hired her a sitter at home and took Fred, our younger dog, with us. When he was a year old, Fred and I trained as a search and rescue team. My health ultimately kept us from finishing his SAR certification, but all of that training left me with an amazing dog who could go into any situation unphased. And then I discovered, entirely by accident, that he knew when my oxygen dropped to dangerous levels. He could sense it before I did and would make me sit down. And if I didn’t listen soon enough and wound up getting my heart involved, he’d press himself against me and give me kisses until the rhythm straightened itself out again. It was Justin, who’d had a thriving practice as a doctor before a brain injury forced an early retirement, who suggested we look into making Fred a medical service dog. We did, and he now goes with us to shows. He’s been all over the country, seeing and experiencing more than most people do in their entire lives.

Show Me officially made me part of the family in November. I’m a coordinator now, though there’s so much more I want to do to help this company grow. To be able to use a lifetime of experience with marketing, project management, process development, corporate training, and—of course—writing helping a company I believe so much in is a dream come true. I’ve had jobs I loved before, but it was because of the cool experiences or the people. And there was always an element of feeling trapped in a corporate cage. Working for Show Me combines all of the things I love into a job that gives me the freedom to explore that I crave.

Recently, Justin and I were volunteering at a food drive and the gentleman who worked for the food bank asked what I did when I wasn’t volunteering. I said, “I write novels and travel all over the country with my husband to put on reptile expos.”

His face lit up and he said, “You live such a fun life!”

I paused for a moment, reflecting on the adventures Justin and I have had these past seven months and smiled at him. “Yeah, I really do.”

We’ve slept on mountaintops and in deserts, seen too many rainbows to count, and waded in creeks and rivers from one end of the country to another. We’ve wandered through downtowns in the charming South and vibrant West. We’ve made friends from one tip of the country to the other.

There are times I question why I do this—like when I’m lugging heavy tables off a truck or wishing I could teleport home on a Sunday night because I’m facing a 12-hour drive after a 12-hour workday. But those times feel insignificant when compared to the smiles I see as I’m welcoming people into the show. When I watch someone’s expression as they overcome their fear and touch a snake for the first time, or share their love of reptiles with their child. Just as Dylan did all those years ago, I see people leave the weight of the world at the door and remember what joy and magic feel like. I get to be part of that every weekend.

I get to be part of helping small businesses build lives they dream of. I’m part of helping educate people about misunderstood animals. And yes, I’ve gotten over my fear of snakes. So has Justin, and his was worse than mine. We now have snakes of our own, along with a Chahoua gecko and a Russian tortoise. (The tortoise was a rescue, the others we fell in love with at shows, a common occupational hazard in our line of work.)

And, perhaps most importantly, I get to spend every day with my soulmate. Some people roll their eyes at us, and we’ve gotten more than one comment from people who say they could never work with their spouse, but we love it. It took us so long to find each other, and we fought so hard to be together, that we crave the time together. Justin is my perfect partner in life and work. We have so much fun and work so well together. After seven months of running shows as a team, we are a well oiled machine.

We’re not the only couple on the circuit; many of our vendors are husband/wife teams. But then, many of them found each other later in life, too. It’s an eclectic group of people who make up the Show Me world—in the company itself, but also the vendors and the guests who come through our doors by the thousands each week. But after a lifetime of feeling like I’m on the outside looking in, I finally feel like I’m part of something. Like I’ve found my people. There’s a special camaraderie amongst those of us who bring these expos to life. We greet each other like old friends on Friday at setup, and Sundays after tear-down are filled with hugs and admonishments to “get home safe.” Like any family, we irritate each other sometimes. Squabbles arise. But the love of the animals and what we do remains.

I still have books I want to write. Words that tumble around my head as I ramble down the highway through the night. But for once, I’m not beating myself up over missed deadlines or publishing gaps. I’ve spent a lifetime observing and chronicling others. I think it’s okay to take some time to live my own life. Because for the first time, that’s what I’m doing: really living. And I love it.