Bryan Thompson :: Blogged

I never thought it would happen to me, but it did. I have officially become an American tourist...in the town I grew up in. Having technically lived almost a thousand miles away from my hometown of Panama City, Florida for roughly six years now (with the exception of 10 months in a small town nearby and an additional four months last summer), I returned with my family recently to "enjoy" a few days on the beach and in the sun.

The "fun in the sun" didn't exactly work out since we had to leave a few days early with the passing of my grandfather (Please keep my grandmother and my family in your prayers during this time.), although we were able to take a few of the nine days we spent in Florida and relax.

The problem is that my folks now live an hour away from where I grew up and the town they live in, while peaceful and tranquil in a Mayberry kind of way, is also extremely boring for anyone under the age of 55. Because of this, we have to drive at least an hour to go to one of our three choices of "exciting" towns which include Dothan, Alabama; Panama City, and Tallahassee. 

Well, on this respective trip, we decided to go all out Panama City Beach. And as we did, something horrible began happening to me: I suddenly became Clark Griswold! I suddenly became the All-American tourist dad with all the seashells and tee-shirts and I stopped only short of the fanny-pack! I don't know how it happened! I don't know how I suddenly turned into my father on every family vacation we ever took until I was twelve. And yet, somehow, it happened.

I realized I had just done the unthinkable: I had become one of THOSE people. That's right! I had become a tourist! 

Now, what's the problem with tourism? you might ask. Well, nothing in and of itself. When you happen to have grown up in a tourist city (as any native New Yorker or Hawaiian can tell you), through the years, you develop a certain growing disdain for tourists. You see, for the tourists, they have it great: they get to get away from work, get out of town, reconnect with the family, etc. But for the poor city dweller, the tourists are the reason the city dweller's roads are clogged, the reason all their favorite restaurants are packed with two-hour waits, and the reason that most city dwellers decide never to go anywhere remotely near the actual tourist destinations (in this case, the beach). I hope that makes sense.

(Oddly enough, I now find myself a "city dweller" again where the "tourists" are now the Griswalds coming to Branson!)

Perhaps now you can understand my predicament. I have now gone from being the "city dweller" in my hometown to being one of the people that I couldn't stand six years ago. I now became the reason Panama City's actual "city dwellers" couldn't access their roads, their restaurants, or their beaches. In other words, I was officially a Canadian. (No offense to my Canadian readers!) 

I should also mention that my fourteen-month-old daughter hated the beach. And I mean she hated it! She was miserable the entire time we were there. She kept saying "No! No!" to the waves as they washed along the shore. So, not only was I an inconvenience to my hometown, but now, I'm an inconvenience to my own kid! Sheesh! How does a guy win with odds like that against him?

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to watch National Lampoon's Vacation!