Red maps

Ah, Mother’s Day! It evokes, like many celebrations, a wide variety of emotions. I thought about my mom. She was young-atheart, funny, loving and generous. I hope everyone took a moment to celebrate the mother in their life and luxuriate in all of the emotions. I certainly did.

And,now that Mother’s Day has passed, I’m finding it hard to believe we are on the cusp of the 2015 tourist season. Although the roadways of The County (notice the capital letters here) are already clogged with tourists on the weekends, it isn’t until the May two-four weekend that we really brace ourselves for the onslaught of visitors. It’s time to grit your teeth and look forward too Thanksgiving weekend, when we’ll all be able to click our heels together and say, “there’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” So let’s get ready for the invasion of the fun and sun-seekers.

I’ve done a wee bit of tourist bashing in the past. Why, yes I have. And, for the record, most of you have done so too. This year I am trying to be a much nicer person, and I think I have a grip on the situation. For instance, this year if a tourist or three decide the front step of my home is the perfect place to have a little sitdown to sip their coffee and chat, I probably won’t chase them away with a broom like the wild woman you think you know I am. I’m not really comfortable with uninvited strangers in my yard, but I think I can be more hospitable this year. Maybe I’ll just gently suggest to them where they could go. That isn’t in my yard. Probably.

Secondly, people who are on vacation often have a very different mindset than those who aren’t. When I’m a tourist, I often think “What the heck, these people will never see me again. So what if my shorts don’t match my t-shirt.” Because I’ve been a fashion terrorist while on holiday, I probably won’t laugh—out loud—when I see tourist-types grocery shopping for wieners, buns and chips whilst wearing their skimpy bathing suits, hosting a three-alarm sunburn on their shoulders and with nothing on their feet except whatever they stepped in on the produce aisle, or worse. Probably. Snort. Snort.

I probably won’t roll my eyes when a tourist tells me they’ve driven all around Picton but can’t find the Sandbanks. Instead, I’ll ask them if they have the famous Red Map. If they don’t have said map, and I happen to have one in my back pocket, I’ll pull it out and tell them where to go. No, wait. I’ll pull the map out and tell them how to get to the beach. Yeah, that’s the ticket. I’ll probably do that with a smile on my face. Probably.

Finally, for today at least, if a tourist asks me why prices in our community are so much like the prices they pay at home, I’ll probably explain the economics of operating a small business, especially in a community influenced by a short tourism season. Maybe I’ll also suggest that about 25,000 people call the County home. I’ll probably say all of that something like this, “You think the prices are higher here than at home? Wow, where’s home for you? Say, I went there once. I can’t afford to go back because the prices were so high.” I’ll probably say that with a smile on my face. Probably.

Anyway, happy tourist season. Like every other celebration, I welcome it with a mix of emotions. Mostly, I hope it’s profitable, fun and without incident. Grab your Red Maps, kids!

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca