Ugly Ass Opinion

Merriam-Webster defines a Tourist as “One that makes a tour for pleasure or culture.” Ugly Ass Opinion has a slightly different version. Something like, “Bovine-esque creatures who descend upon small lakefront towns like a starving herd in the throes of Mad Cow Disease.”

That pretty much sums up the crowd at WalMart today.

I am not a Tourist, I am a Local. Unless of course you ask someone who was born here — that person will inevitably tell you I’m an Import. (16 years of volunteering and home ownership buys me squatters rights, at least.)  Then again, if you ask someone from the U.P., (that’s Upper Peninsula for you non-Michigan folk) they’ll tell you I’m a Troll. This is because I live under the Mackinac Bridge. Which, by the way, is pronounced Mack-uh-gnaw. If you say Mack-i-knack, I refer you to the Ugly Ass Opinion definition of a Tourist.

We live Up North in a small, lakefront town on beautiful Lake Huron. Every weekend & every holiday the folks from Down Below arrive en masse. They bring with them their Hummer-pulled campers, their little yippy dogs, their expensive water, snow or dirt toys (depending on season) and too often a highly developed sense of entitlement.

I don’t mind the nice ones, but Dear Lord save me from the snobs.

To wit, Visitors are respectful and appreciative of our beautiful community. They are welcome here anytime. Loud, obnoxious people who have money but no class and refer to the hardworking people raising families here as ‘Hicks’ are Tourists in the most vile sense of the word. They are welcome to go home just as soon as they sober up enough to drive. 

It helps to be able to tell the difference.

The lady at the gas station who politely said, “Excuse me–I’m sorry to bother you. The ATM here is out of order. Do you know where I can find another one?”  VISITOR. She can stay.

The guy who offered assistance when one of our quads broke down in the National Forest and refused to take any money for his efforts? VISITOR. He can hang out here, too.

The group of drunk twenty-somethings on the beach who threw french fries at the seagulls (a huge no-no) –and then freaked out when dozens of belligerent scavengers swarmed them and started crapping, pecking and pulling food out of their hands–running off screaming profanity and leaving behind fast food wrappers to blow in the wind? TOURISTS. Buh-bye!

The dumbass who darted across the street between parked cars; –almost jaywalking himself into the hospital– who slapped the car hood in frustration and loudly cussed out the elderly man who almost hit him? IDIOT TOURIST–he can go.

After all these years of observation, I’ve learned this: there are those who know how to be decent human beings and those who don’t. Nice folks are kind as a rule, but mean people stay mean no matter where they go.