Microbiology Event a Meeting of the Minds and Research Tools
Hang around with 10,000 microbiologists for a spell and you’ll learn a whole bunch of things about bacteria that cause disease--and bacteria that make cheese, whiffy bacteria that grow in marshes and clever ones that chomp up pollution and plastics.
Among the reports from the American Society for Microbiology’s annual meet (this year in Salt Lake City): Putting iron in deodorants might help control body odor, because iron inhibits the microbes that turn sweat acrid. A bacterium found in a cave in Kentucky might contain an anti-cancer drug. And garlic and onions might have a role in the battle against bioterrorism. (Their oils contain antimicrobials, so some scientists think they could be used as decontaminants.)
But sooner or later, one needs a break from chatter about genes involved in sulfur metabolism or the latest in anthrax biology--and that’s when it’s time to head to ... the exhibit hall. This is the space where companies hawk everything from little plastic tubes for holding DNA to cheery, orange labels proclaiming “Biohazard.” It’s the place where you get a sense of the sheer amount of stuff microbiologists use to discover things: microscopes, cotton swabs, software for analyzing DNA, you name it.
Madness can overtake one in an exhibit hall. First, there’s the candy at every booth (which seems to snare PhDs as effectively as anything else). Dishes of peppermint patties and Hershey’s Kisses were momentarily enough to convince me I might be interested in a nice bottle of buffer or a top-of-the-line safety cabinet for disease-causing bacteria.
Tempting, too, were the many festive petri dishes filled with agar nutrient--in raspberry red (sheep blood), chocolate brown (sheep blood processed differently) rich, shiny gold (yeast extract) and more.
Some of these dishes can even turn different types of bacteria different colors, which would presumably allow one to do wonderful artwork. (Simply spread various species onto plates in cool patterns, pop ‘em in an incubator and wait for them to grow.) But that, explained the sales rep, is not what the plates are for. They are to facilitate bacterial identification in pathology labs.
More alluring even than candy are those endless, ubiquitous freebies--the note pads with logos, sundry small clippy things and dozens of pens inscribed with such things as “Gen-Probe” and “LabVelocity.” How many microbiologists arrived home wondering why on earth they had just traveled thousands of miles on cramped planes nursing bags bursting with colored plastic tubes, posters of Streptococcus gordonii (found in dental plaque), free journals dedicated to the study of life in outer space, and devices used to collect parasitic worms from stool samples?
At the booth for the antibiotic Cipro, there were no free drug samples but plenty of bright-blue tote bags and notepads on offer. Nearby, an English lady was handing out beer coasters decorated with information about the United Kingdom’s Society for Applied Microbiology. (Not for beer, she corrected: “This is Utah.”)
Another booth was flogging a hand-held “pipetter” (used by scientists to measure small quantities of liquid). This one was fat and chunky--like something a cartoon microbiologist would wield. “It’s ergonomic,” explained rep Tony. Consider, he said, how many times a day a scientist moves small volumes of liquid from one tube to another. (This is 90% of what one does, if my grad school memories serve me right.) Consider the potential for repetitive stress if the design isn’t right.
There are other ways to draw in customers, of course. “Earlier, a little kid came over and I told him it was a high-tech squirt gun and he got really excited,” Tony said. “His mother was with him. She’s a researcher. No sale yet, but who knows?”
Then there was the booth selling nothing but little paper labels. “We’re as important as anything else,” insisted Daniel, in a moving tribute to the role of the little guy in human endeavors. “Every petri dish, every microscope slide, any container with a specimen in it--if everything isn’t marked, identified and dated, then you’re holding nothing but a petri dish and not knowing what’s in it.”
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If you have an idea for a Booster Shots topic, write or e-mail Rosie Mestel at the Los Angeles Times, 202 W. 1st. St., Los Angeles, CA 90012, rosie.mestel@latimes.com.
