Turistas

They came. The weekend was cold and grey and wet and still they came like an unstoppable rebel force. First weekend of April and the tourists have descended like human-locusts on Salem. Almost overnight our quiet, seaside town of winter has transformed into a crush of humanity. The calendar flips a page, the season starts, and we become the equivalent of a plague victim relocation center.

I stumbled out the door yesterday about noon to grab a serene, greasy breakfast to cure my hangover. I was not expecting the crowded sidewalks, the clogged streets, or the 30 minute wait in line for some bacon and eggs thanks to a visiting high school band field trip. Too many helter skelter kids, too many senior groups all wearing the same matching yellow and purple t-shirts, too many gawking idiots taking pictures of the neighborhood liquor store (it's called the Bunghole -- not all that funny).

Right now, in the beginning, it's amusing and almost kind of nice. I think, "hey, I live in a really cool place that people want to see!" But it gets old fast. Your commute gets slower, you get a bit claustrophobic walking down the street sometimes, more assholes come out of the woodworks to almost hit you on your bike cuz they aren't paying attention, and your spot at the bar in the neighborhood pub is not as easy to claim, even on days when you'd think it would be slow as hell. The ferry to Boston does start running and there will be lots of stuff to do come summer, but I know that I'll breathe a sigh of relief come November 1st. Let's start the insanity...