You scoff at the TV as hundreds of eager attendees lug their prized possessions around the Antiques Roadshow campus. The person struggling to carry a five-foot landscape painting – get real. The woman with a chunky armoire that required a midsize U-Haul – you’ve gotta be kidding. The man wielding two Katana swords, a definite safety risk to everyone around him – come on, dude.
Sorry, what? A ripped and soiled cocktail napkin with an illegible signature on it should be insured for $40,000? Interesting!
You know what? You might have some collectibles lying around the house.
- Your coffee table. At first glance, it’s pretty run-of-the-mill. But you bought it at Goodwill, meaning it has mysterious origins. What if King Arthur and his Knights sat at this very table during the sixth century? The specialists at AR will be able to fill in the blanks. Take a chance on yourself and bring it.
- The cheap nightstand you ordered from Wayfair for a simple hit of dopamine three years ago. You’re not even sure what this is made of. Is it real wood? Can’t be. Plastic? Probably. But isn’t this the mid-century modern style everyone’s always raving about? Bring it.
- The rusty potato peeler that has been in your family for five generations. This precious heirloom deserves more than the lawless hellscape that is your overstuffed silverware drawer. Imagine the smile on Grandma Ruth’s face when she learns the family peeler provided you with thousands to pay off your “pointless liberal arts degree.” Bring it along.
- The glass vase you bought at Dollar Tree in an attempt to decorate your first apartment. They’re a dime a dozen– or a penny, or maybe even less than a penny– but the glass work seems impressive. Bring it just in case!
- Your high school yearbook. Go Bulldogs! This thing is chock full of signatures. Someone in here has to have done something of note (you, for one, who is about to make millions via Antiques Roadshow). It would be stupid not to bring this. If nothing else, the book will provide some reading material while you’re waiting in line. (Warning: Skip band picture on page 33.)
- The house plant you killed, but still keep around because you don’t want to feel like a failure, even though its presence proves that you did fail at something. Score! This fucked up philodendron screams character. Everyone will be fooled into thinking it’s historic because of how terrible it looks, but you’re just an expert at neglect. Bring it, you hopeless plant murderer, BRING IT!
- The instruction manual for your old ceiling fan(!!!) Do they even make this model anymore?! This is a relic. That person with the 15th-century Ming dynasty celadon dish can suck it! They have nothing on your Fanimation instruction guide. You absolutely MUST bring this.
- The rotting clove of garlic that has been trapped under the bottom of your lazy Susan for three (four?) years. It would be just as easy to pack the shriveled garlic carcass as it would be to throw it in the garbage. And it looks like your garbage can is full, so you have no choice but to bring this.
- A fresh turd from your cat’s litter box. Cosmo gives high fives, so his bodily waste is sure to be something special. Bag that shit up and bring it!
- The suit of armor you found shoved in the basement closet when you moved into your house. The armor is circa 1505, commissioned by Ulrich, Duke of Württemberg, for his own use in battle. It’s constructed of solid steel plates and features a prominent gold family crest. The set includes his signature sword, along with protection for his famous warhorse. It’s nice but too heavy. Don’t bring it.
You’re ready! Every other attendee will envy your carefully curated treasure trove. The appraisers’ wooden pointers will shake in their hands as they analyze your rare finds. Prepare for your life to change, because once you return as a billionaire from this transformative trip nothing will be the same! Wait. Is this all going to fit in the car?