The Antiques Roadshow came to my city a few years ago and, after being a big fan of it for a long time, I begged my husband to go and planned on bringing along a German air rifle my father brought home from The War. Since each person was allowed to bring two items I also brought along a hunting rifle that belonged to my brother-in-law's uncle. The gun's stock had been repaired and was held together in places with screws and was never a valuable item, even when new.
We got to the arena at 6am and the line was already down the block and around the corner, with more people showing up in droves every minute. We stood on line for six hours, most of it in the pouring-down rain, with no port-a-potties anywhere, nobody offering to sell us any snacks, and no protection from the downpour.
The people on line were friendly and in good spirits, tho, and after spending so much time with them we made a lot of new friends who were eager to share the stories of the items they had brought along. I felt sorry for one woman, tho, who had brought a lovely table that was getting ruined in the rain.
By the time we got inside we were soaked thru from the rain, but we were all happy to be able to dry out a bit, finally buy a pretzel, and anxious to get to the appraisers, to see if all that suffering we had endured in the elements was worth it.
It wasn't.
Once we got to the door of the huge appraisal room we were told which table to go to, depending on what type of item we had, and we were told we had five minutes for the appraisal, that was all, and most of all, to keep moving and exit the room as quickly as possible following the appraisal process.
My husband and I bid farewell to our new friends as we all split up to our appointed sections of the room, and we hurried to the firearms appraisal table. I found out that my air gun had been used by the HitlerYouth as a training weapon during World War II and had a value of about $100, which seemed rather low to me, considering its morally unpleasant but nonetheless interesting provenance. I tried to ask a few more questions, but the appraiser was rude and cranky and kept cutting me off. Then he gave me the value for my brother-in-law's gun, the homemade one that was held together with screws and spit. $200! I couldn't believe it.
I don't think we even got our five minutes at the table. We tried to look around at other things on our way out, and I was excited to see Leigh and Leslie Keno recording a segment for the broadcast, but overall I was left with a sour taste, that we had been treated so poorly by everyone involved, and were dismissed almost as non-entities, when if it weren't for people like us, they would have no show at all. We had wasted an entire day, were miserable and wet for most of it, and had a disappointing result.
I watched the broadcast a couple of months later to see if we had been caught on tape, milling around the room (we had not), and that was the last time I ever watched that show.
We got to the arena at 6am and the line was already down the block and around the corner, with more people showing up in droves every minute. We stood on line for six hours, most of it in the pouring-down rain, with no port-a-potties anywhere, nobody offering to sell us any snacks, and no protection from the downpour.
The people on line were friendly and in good spirits, tho, and after spending so much time with them we made a lot of new friends who were eager to share the stories of the items they had brought along. I felt sorry for one woman, tho, who had brought a lovely table that was getting ruined in the rain.
By the time we got inside we were soaked thru from the rain, but we were all happy to be able to dry out a bit, finally buy a pretzel, and anxious to get to the appraisers, to see if all that suffering we had endured in the elements was worth it.
It wasn't.
Once we got to the door of the huge appraisal room we were told which table to go to, depending on what type of item we had, and we were told we had five minutes for the appraisal, that was all, and most of all, to keep moving and exit the room as quickly as possible following the appraisal process.
My husband and I bid farewell to our new friends as we all split up to our appointed sections of the room, and we hurried to the firearms appraisal table. I found out that my air gun had been used by the HitlerYouth as a training weapon during World War II and had a value of about $100, which seemed rather low to me, considering its morally unpleasant but nonetheless interesting provenance. I tried to ask a few more questions, but the appraiser was rude and cranky and kept cutting me off. Then he gave me the value for my brother-in-law's gun, the homemade one that was held together with screws and spit. $200! I couldn't believe it.
I don't think we even got our five minutes at the table. We tried to look around at other things on our way out, and I was excited to see Leigh and Leslie Keno recording a segment for the broadcast, but overall I was left with a sour taste, that we had been treated so poorly by everyone involved, and were dismissed almost as non-entities, when if it weren't for people like us, they would have no show at all. We had wasted an entire day, were miserable and wet for most of it, and had a disappointing result.
I watched the broadcast a couple of months later to see if we had been caught on tape, milling around the room (we had not), and that was the last time I ever watched that show.