Thursday, April 4, 2013

In which observations are made in the tourist city




I have lived in D.C. for two years now and am still completely baffled by how all of the tourists know the official day when “tourist season” starts, yet D.C. residents seem to be caught completely off guard every year. It is as if, as a city, we collectively hope that come warm weather, all of our national monuments will grow legs and move somewhere where they are some other city's problem. Part of the shock is there is not a slow spring trickle of tourists that grows into the regular summer onslaught, they just all show up at once. One day every red double-decker tour bus that passes is empty and the next day it is full. Boom! You’re in tourist season: do not pass Go, do not collect $200. (Also, when it rains, all of the tourists put on those plastic ponchos – why is that a thing tourists? Why?)

For all of the crowds and frustrations that it brings, I am actually a fan of tourist season. More accurately, I am a fan of the beginning of tourist season.; that bright-eyed month or two where a person can view the city anew through the wondered gaze of people viewing their nation’s capital for the first time. Case in point, the other day I was walking to work when a family of tourists stopped cold in front of me and started to take pictures of a large glass-faced office building. I looked up to see what they were photographing and noticed, FOR THE FIRST TIME, that the building has this incredible three-dimensional glass front, like some of the windows stick out further than others creating this cool visual effect. Could I have looked up on any other day and seen that – sure; but I didn’t, because I just never thought to look in the normal course of my day. (Also because most of the sidewalks in D.C. are so poorly maintained that looking up at a building could probably result in a serious trip and fall situation. And don’t think you can sue the city for that, because you would be suing the federal government and we all know they are dead broke. The feds are so broke right now, if you opened the White House game closet, even the Monopoly money would be gone.)

But that is what the beginning of tourist season brings, the ability to view this incredible city anew. To actually feel a little excited when the motorcade goes by, instead of worrying that you are going to lose your OpenTable points when you are late for your dinner reservation (a legitimate concern, no doubt). To get swept up in the excitement of the moment when a tour group thinks they see John McCain (pro tip: it is not McCain, he is too short to be viewed in a crowd of people). To realize you are living in a city that people travel to see, instead of a city people travel away from. That is what tourist season brings.

That dream moment that is the beginning of tourist season always ends the same way, however, and that is in a screaming fight between residents and a large tourist family as they stand on the left side of an escalator during rush hour. Or in watching a child get separated from his family when they fail to realize that the metro doors do not have motion sensors and will legit close on you, regardless of your gender, age, or financial status (I seriously saw metro doors close on a pregant woman once. I am serious, metro is cold). Or when you show up to your favorite restaurant and there is a wait because it is filled with, literally, 10 million 8th graders wearing the same splatter-painted “I love D.C.” sweatshirt. Those are the moments when the dream that was the beginning of tourist season is truly dead.

But for now we are still on the cusp of that beautiful moment of city renewal. The time to discover the nation’s capital through the eyes of every eager tourist and every slacker 8th grader who can’t figure out why the class couldn’t have taken their graduation trip to DisneyWorld. For now we can all just enjoy. 

A happy tourist season to all and to all a good night!

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