Tourist Alert
Out on the Rosman Highway is a bill board that reads "Tourist Alert Level Orange". I'm not sure what that means. It's not red this year, that's for sure. Maybe it's me, but it doesn't seem as "crowded" this year. The out of state tags trickled in, not showing up until later than usual.
Tha Appalachianist...Spreading Appalachiaism like a plague...
Tha Appalachianist...Spreading Appalachiaism like a plague...
posted by Hill Billy Rave | Tuesday, June 29, 2010
4 Comments:
Tourism goes a long way in our economy down here, so it is a little difficult to bite the hand that feeds. But not, of course, impossible.
In a perfect world, perfect for me anyway, we could convince 'em to just send their money without actually coming down. Not much chance of that, though.
In an almost perfect world, we could convince them to visit without falling so in love with the weather that they buy a house and stay. Again, not much chance since once they've been mowing grass and wearing shorts until after Christmas it's hard to sell them on blizzards and tire chains.
Tourists (too bad we don't have a warning system like yours)have spawned some tretty good bumper stickers. 2 classics that are favorites of mine are:
Happiness is a tourist headed back north...with a New Yorker under each arm.
and
We don't care how you did it up north.
R'Ed
Ed, here we are really not that suited to tourism. In just the last 10 years or so we got chain motels. Whats here that so special? Woods...Oh, mountains too. But you can spot someone that makes their time selling trinkets to tourist...The word "Mountians" being used in as often as possible but to describe the people and politics. While they may drive funny out on 276, 215 and 64, we're not as covered up that we are choking. But, one thing they have taught me in my life, when I go somewhere, I respect the locals.
Got an e-mail I need to respond too.
Long ago and far away in another time and place and in another day of living in a mill village with friends who at the time had no furniture to mention of in their living rooms and not knowing we were poor not many of us ever went any place if it were further than the out house out back.
Folks who had lived and worked in the community all their lives had never been to the mountains or to the ocean. It was ironic because so many of the folk who worked in the mills were relate to folks who had been recruited from the mountains . . . given vouchers and such to come down to the flatlands to work in the cotton mills . . . down at Myrtle Beach you could, at the Pavillon, see some of these grizzled old folk retired and sitting and enjoying a first trip to the beach and looking at the famous Calliope just amazed and watching the whirring figures and hearing the toot-toot of its music . . . well, if they were lucky.
What is this story all about and how does it relate to the observation about tourist? Well, respect the locals . . . they are people just like you and me, but damned if anyone has any money to go anywhere right now . . . not even to go to Brevard and see the famous white squirrels. How's that for a story. Let me borrow a dollar big man as the story goes, or as the someone from Mill #3 once put it, "If a vacation cost more than a pint of gin, he was't goin'."
Kinda brings us back to the song . . . it was fun to listen to . . . I don't know where you find 'em . . . the songs that is not the tourist. Take care Bill
Bill, I remembered back when I was a kid hearing a song on the radio that came from an album called "Bloody Tourist". That is that album, but not the song. The record company blocked the song.
Around here is a good place for a quiet vacation. That is if you want to just get out and loafer. Then there is the vacation home people, that varies from little cabins to mansions. Day drivers from a neighboring state, or a further off county is common, and while the summer traffic is here, it's just not as heavy as it has been.
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