After having had to come to a dead stop on a freeway on-ramp yesterday because the tourists in the car ahead of me decided to stop to take a picture, I feel your pain. :-(

I'm sick of slow, bovine visitors from Mass

In Mystic, we used to call them "Water Buffalo." And they tended to be from Long Island.

When I lived there, I struggle to sleep, plagued by the noise on the street below my window. I was always awakened after the brewery downstairs closed and the hooting capwearing beerfaced boys meandered their way home. And then, and hour or two later, I'd jolt awake to the unaccustomed silence.

One night at 3 a.m., I couldn't get back to sleep, so I got up, got dressed, and headed downstair. I walked a block to the town square, which was thronged from daybreak to last call with crowds. At 3 a.m., it was completely empty, lit up with street lights, fragrant with clean night air. I sat there for an hour or more.

I did it the next night, too. I brought a bottle of bubbles and filled the square with shining bubbles. A person or two wandered by, but that's all.

I did it a few nights later. I sat on the edge of the giant granite planter in the square, reading my book by streetlights and enjoying a drink.

Every few nights all summer long, I reclaimed my town a half hour or an hour at a time, after dark. It did me good.

it's only know that I realize I did the same thing growing up in a beach town: as a teenager, I went to the beach with friends at midnight, and sometimes stayed until dawn. It was quiet and clean and private.

When I lived there, I struggle to sleep, plagued by the noise on the street below my window.

Me, too. I remember nights kneeling on my bed above the beer-n-BBQ joint, squinting down into the street to perceive what the latest ruckus was.

it's only know that I realize I did the same thing growing up in a beach town: as a teenager, I went to the beach with friends at midnight, and sometimes stayed until dawn.

Never thought about it: but me, too. The rhythms of the seaside tourist town are so ingrained in me that I take them in stride: irritating, but predictable, and comforting, as the seasons themselves. IN winter, and late at night, and in the magic shoulder seasons, we have the streets and strands to ourselves, wandering like royalty around our inherited kingdom. Every now and then, foreign marauders arrive; but with them, they bring the gold and the energy to fuel the summer explosions of energy which make that season so rich and manic, so unpredictable and energetic. With autumn, an elegaic mood returns, all made of farewells and re-connections, a truly bittersweet season.

Tourists: it's easy to curse them as an irritating, invasive plague, but we're all inextricably linked in the creation of, and love of, a place that would be profoundly different without their desire to taste, for a moment, our lives. And vice versa.

No, you're both wrong. They all must be herded into pens and tazed. Then plied with chocolate for fattening, then tazed until firm. Then, the harvest.

First one to the Wicker Man wins!

First one to the Wicker Man wins!

This is why I love you.

If it's called tourist season, then how come we can't shoot 'em, amirite? I spent most of my youth in Vermont where the god-damned-leaf-peepahs would bring the roads to a crawl.

The trick is to segregate the tourists into one small part of town, and then find a way to harvest tourist dollars more efficient than "burger and fries".

Anybody wanna buy a "Fishermans Wharf San Francisco" Fleece Jacket? On Sale, only $124.99!

The key I found, for me is to just not go into town. It kinda sucks cause I miss going to the farmer's market. But the craziness just winds me up way too much.

When I lived in K, walking over the bridge was nice, occasionally, to grab a coffee. But the crooked corner cafe' (is that the name?) was usually sufficient if I couldn't deal with town.

I agree with Elsa, though. That town is really nice at about 3am when everyone goes home. Especially after a rain. Winter is good but you're right LT, the weather sucks.

In a way, it just doesn't seem fair to not be able to enjoy my own down town sometimes.

I would be open to providing the cattle fencing, LT, if you have the tazers. I would also consider biological means if the fencing can't be pulled off.

There are so many tourists here on the weekends - stupid UNESCO World Heritage designation - that you just can't use the big statue of Copernicus in the Old Market Square (from 1230-something) as a meeting place. I have to meet people in the - yuck - New Market Square (from 1260-something). Monday nights, though? Not a soul about, and the sun starts coming up here around 2:30 or 3:00. A lovely, quiet walk home!

I kinda like the tourists in my little seaside town, and they aren't even the basis of our economy here. Sure, there are plenty of people in shore towns who aren't in the tourist economy, but your towns live and die on tourist money. If you weren't born there you were probably once a tourist.

And I say this as someone who hates people plenty, a man of mute rage with a plan to strangle every motherfucker on the subway car; it's the fucking locals I want to kill, no, it's anyone who thinks they're special, I'd like to scalp them and watch their eyes droop.

When I was a kid, my parents took us to Rehoboth Beach, DE, because at a mostly gay beach you could avoid the combination of rowdy drunk tourists and asshole locals endemic to most other mid-atlantic beaches. Plus better restaurants with a greater likelihood of wait-staff dressed in themed pantaloons.

I enjoy giving directions to the tourists. It's empowering. I'll be out walking, and an out-of-state carload pulls up alongside me, blocking traffic, and someone hangs out the passenger side and asks, "Do you live here?" (although, in the spring and fall, I usually get "Do you go to school here?") I'm always tempted to give bad directions ("Jamestown? I thought this was Jamestown! Dammit, Cherlene!"), but I never do. I mention local landmarks, route numbers and street names, number of stoplights, point out places-of-interest, and name ticket prices. Sometimes, I even draw them a map.

But yeah, when I'm driving and they come to a full stop at a corner with no stop sign, I want to shoot them with dynamite.

I live in a tourist town and I was born here. I'm used to it, and as Hugh mentioned, we depend on tourist dollars. There are times you don't leave your house or venture to a certain part of town, because if you do, you will be stuck in traffic like a fool for five hours. Today is the Coke Zero 400. I won't be going near the racetrack today.

We go to a part of the beach where locals usually hang out, there are tourists as well, but I don't mind. As long as I get a parking space, I'm happy. I wrote a review on TripAdvisor about this particular beach park. I want people to know about this gorgeous spot, what can I say? If my friends and locals knew, they'd kill me. I am contemplating going to this very spot right now. It's 10:45 on the 4th. There will be no parking spots but I can park across the street.

You should try getting through Times Square during rush hour, at Christmas, or any other time of year, for that matter. Hello, some of us are just trying to get home from work, people. DO NOT stop short in front of me in a crowd of people. I will hurt you.

Also, after six years in NYC, I can spot the out-of-town families on the train in a second. I like trying to guess which midwestern state they're from. I'll squint at them and say, "Indiana, right?" (Red checked shirts on the mothers are dead give-aways.) I am uncannily accurate. (Mind you, I lived in Ohio for five years, and yes, I am a condescending asshole.)

When I go on vacations, it's never to places, but always to people. That said, though, some of my favorite trips have been to visit locals in tourist towns. I'd like to be one of those people.

I like being a tourist environment overall.

But people sometimes behave really badly when on vacation. They sometimes do and say things they'd never do in a million years at home. And that behavior sometimes places a particular kind of drain on locals that people in less-traveled places don't usually experience [just ask the police]. It's a two-edged sword.

People here mostly behave well, but there's an increasingly nightclubby feel to Friday and Saturday nights that is different from even a few years ago. Lotsa bachelor/bachelorette parties, lots of limos, lots of teeter-tottery heels, lots of shouting, lots of late-night on-the-street hooking up, some loud fighting, some vomiting.

well, as long as it's only some vomiting. ;)

I'm torn... summer in Chicago brings the out-of-town jerks, but they obscure the local jerks for a while. Good or bad? Los Angeles is great because, as with San Francisco, all the tourists are sequestered. They're either at Third Street Promenade, Santa Monica Beach, Olvera Street, or Grauman's Chinese Theater. All these places are kind of their own punishment.

That sucks, LT. Pity and pathos for you tied in a bow!

Misrembering a DFW quote, A Tourist is a fly on a dead thing. A necessary but disgusting thing that makes a disgusting thing even worse.

halonine said exactly what I was going to say about Chicago. The entire summer is an escalating contest of "Which weekend can have the most enormous, crowd-drawing festivals?!?!?" It's great to have so many options, but yeah, it brings the tourists in droves.

On the other hand, living (for now) in Evanston, all of the NU students are gone, and its delightfully quiet here.