I had occasion to ride over to Easton,, Maryland. Now Easton is a town on the eastern shore of Maryland that is quite the tourist town during the season. We still have a " season " around here unlike some other places where it just never really ends. The tourists or part time residents, whichever term you prefer, are here for the warmer months. Greensboro, the town I live in is about twenty miles from Easton and we don't see much overflow in the way of these folks. I seldom travel to Easton as the only things of interest to me there are the Motor Vehicle Department and the Hospital. Neither of those places are fun to visit ! But I had to go Saturday and the traffic downtown was terrific. Nothing like I am used to in and around Greensboro that much is sure. As I crawled down the street I had time to look at the folks. It struck me then how many of them looked like they came out of the pages of some magazine. That these folks were tourists was immediately evident to me. Their clothes all looked brand new and of the latest fashion. Almost like they were mannequins from the shops had come to life. It was eerie in a way. I saw a person, on a bicycle, all decked out in that skin tight suit with the funny looking helmet waiting in traffic at the stop light. I thought, was this person in a race and got stuck in the traffic ? I saw an older man, in cargo shorts and flip flops, eating an ice cream cone while strolling on the sidewalk. He was wearing some sort of safari hat and looked lost. At least he kept looking around as if trying to find something. The streets were lined with tables with umbrellas on them and people eating their lunches. The little shop windows filled with clothes and " antiques and fine arts " where in abundance. I could be imagining it but I thought I heard the sound of minstrels ! It was rather like being in one of those " villages " at Disney. This is " vacationland " were you can walk in the streets and spend money foolishly all day long. Everyone else is just an employee in this " vacationland " and so must yield to you. And with that thought I bristle. I want to go back to Greensboro.
Now I have had some experience with this tourist business in years past. My hometown was and is still a big tourist attraction. So much so it has become famous. Well. it has gotten to the point where several towns around that have all been clumped together now under one identity, The Hamptons. Having moved from there lo these many years ago, I still chuckle when I hear people say that, The Hamptons. My immediate response is, which one ? I forget that it is now all one and the same, a vacationland resort ! The locals depend upon this trade for their living. It has always been so to a point. If there is money to be made people will take advantage of that, and I can't blame them. It can become a two edged sword however and you wind up selling more than you intended. But that is the risk when pedaling a dream. And that is exactly what the tourists come for, a dream. An imagined time and place where everything is just perfect. Some come year after year and relive that dream. After a while though the "employees " begin to revolt somewhat. They won't quit because they are dependent but become more uncooperative. The tourists have now invested too much time and money into their dreams and so will not leave. What I see left is a struggle between realities and dreams.
I write this missive as a way of explanation. It is not intended to hurt anyone's feelings or disparage in any way. It is no more than an observation on my part. The way I see things from my vantage point. Easton is a quaint little village on the eastern of Maryland. It offers the water and fine art. Home to the Annual Waterfowl Festival a celebration of all things hunting and the outdoors. People travel from all over to display their wares, duck decoys, paintings and crafts of all types. All very high end and sophisticated. They can met and mingle with the locals. They are the " guides " to the best hunting and all the outdoors have to offer. Really, just folks making a living doing what they know how to do. They are the " professionals. " Yeah, you can call me that, and I will charge you accordingly. You buy the outfits and the equipment. Spend lots of money and I will give you the experience. What you don't realize is that experience is what I'm trying to avoid. Working the water in the hot sun and long hours trying to scratch out a living isn't all you think it is. If I can sell you that experience and avoid the work, I will. I can make more money letting you shoot at a duck than I can shooting it myself. You want the experience of being local ? It is for sale. For a fee, I'll let you drive my tractor too ! Funny isn't it ? One group selling and the other buying. Just what is being bought and sold though ? Dreams or reality ? One group is buying their dreams, and the other is selling their reality. In the end I think there will be sellers remorse rather than buyers. What is sold can never be bought back. Dreams can be enjoyed forever. Is there space between the two ? Yes, there is, but only for a while, only for a while.
Now I have had some experience with this tourist business in years past. My hometown was and is still a big tourist attraction. So much so it has become famous. Well. it has gotten to the point where several towns around that have all been clumped together now under one identity, The Hamptons. Having moved from there lo these many years ago, I still chuckle when I hear people say that, The Hamptons. My immediate response is, which one ? I forget that it is now all one and the same, a vacationland resort ! The locals depend upon this trade for their living. It has always been so to a point. If there is money to be made people will take advantage of that, and I can't blame them. It can become a two edged sword however and you wind up selling more than you intended. But that is the risk when pedaling a dream. And that is exactly what the tourists come for, a dream. An imagined time and place where everything is just perfect. Some come year after year and relive that dream. After a while though the "employees " begin to revolt somewhat. They won't quit because they are dependent but become more uncooperative. The tourists have now invested too much time and money into their dreams and so will not leave. What I see left is a struggle between realities and dreams.
I write this missive as a way of explanation. It is not intended to hurt anyone's feelings or disparage in any way. It is no more than an observation on my part. The way I see things from my vantage point. Easton is a quaint little village on the eastern of Maryland. It offers the water and fine art. Home to the Annual Waterfowl Festival a celebration of all things hunting and the outdoors. People travel from all over to display their wares, duck decoys, paintings and crafts of all types. All very high end and sophisticated. They can met and mingle with the locals. They are the " guides " to the best hunting and all the outdoors have to offer. Really, just folks making a living doing what they know how to do. They are the " professionals. " Yeah, you can call me that, and I will charge you accordingly. You buy the outfits and the equipment. Spend lots of money and I will give you the experience. What you don't realize is that experience is what I'm trying to avoid. Working the water in the hot sun and long hours trying to scratch out a living isn't all you think it is. If I can sell you that experience and avoid the work, I will. I can make more money letting you shoot at a duck than I can shooting it myself. You want the experience of being local ? It is for sale. For a fee, I'll let you drive my tractor too ! Funny isn't it ? One group selling and the other buying. Just what is being bought and sold though ? Dreams or reality ? One group is buying their dreams, and the other is selling their reality. In the end I think there will be sellers remorse rather than buyers. What is sold can never be bought back. Dreams can be enjoyed forever. Is there space between the two ? Yes, there is, but only for a while, only for a while.
No comments:
Post a Comment