Visitors Not Welcome

I hate cherry blossoms. Every year, hordes of tourists descend on Washington to celebrate, essentially, a middling diplomatic gift from the early 1900s. Don’t get me wrong — cherry blossoms are pretty. But I have three problems with them: no cherries, they bloom for six minutes and they bring tourists.

And, really, it’s mostly about the tourists.

Ask any Washington native how they feel about tourists, and they most likely won’t have anything positive to say. Actually, ask a native of anywhere about tourists and it’s about the same. The most forgiving answer people can usually muster is that they tolerate tourists because their cities need the money.

Tourists are just as bad as the weird guy your parents moved into the basement to cover the mortgage. (“Yes honey, we know the new renter downstairs is strange, but we could really use the extra money.”) No one really likes tourists, despite the fact that most people have been tourists at some point. It’s like the time you went out with your friends sober — you know you’ve been drunk before, but there’s no way you were as bad as these lushes.

Here in D.C. we especially hate tourists, mostly because we realize that the existence of our city depends on them. The entire metropolitan area subsists on government contracts and tourist dollars. As much as I love Washington, I’ve come to terms with the fact that, as a tourist destination, it isn’t first rate. This is a point that has been driven home to me in many conversations with Londoners, which go along these lines:

Londoner: You’re American! Where from? Me: Right outside Washington, D.C. Londoner: Oh. Are you close to New York?

Aside from this more existential reason for my hatred of tourists, the others are practical. Tourists take up space — on the Metro, on the National Mall, on the sidewalk, pretty much everywhere. They don’t even stand to the right on the escalator. (I’ve found that’s a pretty universal rule of etiquette. Even here in England, where they drive on the left, they stand to the right on the escalator.)

Tourists slow everything down, especially if you’re in a hurry. Anyone who has ever worked downtown and commuted by Metro dreads two things: signaling failure on the Red line and a pack of tourists trying to buy farecards.

And then there are the aesthetic reasons. Tourists buy things that make me feel cheap and tawdry. In New York, they have their iconic “I (Love) New York” T-shirts. As for D.C. — first, who decided that T-shirts with Calvin of “Calvin and Hobbes” fame peeing on things would be a good look for the nation’s capital? Second, those ubiquitous FBI hoodies in pink and baby blue that every tourist from a flyover state seems to be wearing are atrocious, not to mention the countless manifestations of Obama-themed merchandise and apparel. Perhaps it’s a rule of thumb everywhere that cities reserve only their dinkiest, kitschiest products for visitors, but come on, Washington. The government that put a man on the moon could certainly outlaw “Female Body Inspector” hats.

Luckily, I’ll be in London for the cherry blossom onslaught this year. But tourist season runs until late September, so I’ll keep the bunker stocked for my return. Until next time, I’m off to Amsterdam, where I’ll be taking in the sights, terrorizing the locals and eating my words.

Sebastian Johnson is a junior in the College and is studying abroad at the London School of Economics in England. He can be reached at johnson@thehoya.com. Tale of Two Cities appears every other Monday on www.thehoya.com.

To send a letter to the editor on a recent campus issue or Hoya story or a viewpoint on any topic, contact opinion@thehoya.com. Letters should not exceed 300 words, and viewpoints should be between 600 to 800 words.