On Display

Going to see the Body Planet exhibition at the museum was not exactly my idea of a fun field trip. My third grade teacher was one of those quirky/creepy types who made conservative parents uncomfortable, and she had macabre sensibilities. An exhibit like Body Planet was right up her alley.

The boys were all naturally excited about it, us girls not so much. I wanted to be a biologist when I grew up, but I found the whole thing revolting. My fascination with biology was always difficult to reconcile with my general squeemishness,and this exhibit was especially hard for me. If I had been a teenager I probably wouldn't have been bothered so much, but being only 9 at the time it really got to me. The whole time we were there I was deeply upset.

Our class first watched a short film in the museum auditorium explaining the exhibit and its supposed goals, narrated by the anthropologist who had founded Body Planet. Then we went to the exhibit proper.

Our teacher let us walk around the museum independently, provided we each have a buddy. I flat-out ignored that stipulation. I really didn't feel like walking around with someone else through this macabre display. It would require me to pretend I was enjoying myself and I simply wasn't up for that.

At the front of the exhibit were animal displays, with plaques explaining the plastination process used for the cadavers. I had to admit, I was intrigued by the animal part. Gazing at the plastinated cows and goats made me wonder if I could stomach being a veterinarian.

There was one part with human fetuses in jars. Another room had plastinated bodies posed in lifelike positions, playing sports and such. Their fake eyes seemed to stare down at me from their raised podiums, making me very uneasy.

I got lost in thought there for a while until a noise caught my attention. A moment later, our teacher appeared and told me we were leaving and that I was the last straggler, admonishing me for not having a buddy.

I was both disgusted and fascinated on the bus ride back to school. That experience turned out to be pivotal for me. I became more and more interested in human anatomy over general biology and ended up becoming a mortician. That third grade field trip deeply impacted how I viewed the human body, and in particular, how I viewed the dead.

What really stuck with me above all was the noise I had heard while alone in that room full of plastinated athletes. I don't remember much else about that room, but the noise stuck in my head for a long time afterward.

You could tell me it was just my imagination, but I swear on my life, I heard one of those motherfuckers breathe.