Guest post from Vitriol Girl

Fact: being a tourist makes you look stupid.

I've come to the conclusion, there is no way you can be a tourist and not look stupid. First of all, tourists look at shit, and there’s nothing more annoying than someone who actually takes notice of their surroundings. Don’t try to hide it because we can spot you miles away. No, it’s not the backpack. No, it’s not the bum-bag or the passport pocket or even the Lonely Planet guide. It’s those velcro sandals. You know, the ones that you bought from that outdoorsy looking store because you can walk in them AND it doesn’t matter if they get wet? Them. Nobody—nobody—wears them except for tourists—as if you couldn’t guess, given how they make you look like you’re wearing kneepads on your feet. Kind of like Crocs. Nobody in their right mind would be caught dead wearing them in their regular neighborhood, but for some reason tourists decide that the regular rules don’t apply to them.

And don’t pretend we can’t see you ooh-ing and aah-ing at the top of your lungs over something totally arbitrary. “Look, honey! Look at that chipped plaster awning! Look at this artfully placed rusty spoon! Look at that cup of coffee! / that incredibly common mammal! / your cocktail! / your foot ulcer!” For some reason, the exact same shit that was totally mundane in your own backyard becomes fascinating to you as a tourist. If you’re not gushing about it, you’re bitching about how that rock / building / tree / painting / rusty spoon / kangaroo / foot ulcer wasn’t as impressive as you thought it would be. What do you want it to do, give you a lap dance? Maybe it just looks unimpressive because you’re viewing it through the lens of your camera. Incidentally, is that surgically attached to your face? No? Then remove it. What’s the point in traveling to new places if all you’re going to do is take photos of them? Did you pick up the tourist brochure and go, ‘Hey look at the photos of this place! Let’s go there so we can take our own photos of exactly the same thing!’? You did, didn’t you? How many times are you actually going to look at them? Let’s be honest—you’re going to beg EVERYONE YOU KNOW to gaze at them in wonder (even the blurry ones and the 45 you took of that cockatoo from different angles) but when you sift through them yourself, all you’ll be looking for are the hot / buff / half-naked ones you can post as your Facebook profile picture.

And you know that campervan you’re hauling halfway across the country? It’s fat, ugly, a waste of energy and an oxymoron. You’re not camping; you’re carrying a house. You’re not ‘getting away from it all’; you’ve got ‘it all’ attached to your towbar. Don’t try to tell me all about how you’re getting close to nature; you’re sitting on your arse watching ‘Deal or No Deal’ at 5:30pm just the same as always, only this time you picked it up with a satellite dish next to a gum tree instead of through the antennae on your tiled roof at home. You’re in a national park. Perhaps you might like to listen to the sound of night birds and crickets instead of Andrew O’Keefe. And if you turned that generator off and walked outside you might even—gasp!—see some stars

Additionally, I understand that hauling a 6-tonne pile of scrap metal around the country means you can’t go faster than 75km/h even in your brand new shiny-clean black twin-cab Nissan Navara, but when I’m 8 cars behind you and you’re behind a road train I kind of want to slash your tyres or shove a potato up your exhaust. Not only does it make you the slowest jerk on the highway, but when the speed limit is 130km/h I’m pretty sure it’s a crime against humanity.

Don’t think you backpackers are any better. 

The only thing worse than an overprepared tourist who doesn’t actually want to leave home is an underprepared backpacker who has decided that the most important thing for them to spend their money on is booze, and that because they’re not at home they can be the most obnoxious wanker on earth. Of course  your $12 tent doesn’t keep out monsoon rain, no I won't shout you dinner. 

What kind of dipshit goes for a 20km walk in thongs, without a water bottle anyway? And that car—baby, you’re lucky it got three blocks from the rental yard let alone halfway to Brisbane. Nobody cares about how smashed you got last night, or how many wrong hostel rooms you walked into, or how many girls you failed to hook up with, or how you spewed all over the public toilets, or how you lost your phone, or how hilarious it was when you threw your beer can at that emu / homeless person / member of an ethnic minority / small child. 

It’s like someone sold you epic failure and convinced you it was adventure, and now you’re inflicting your idiocy on the rest of us. When you get hypothermia because you passed out on a rock in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night after somebody shaved off your god-awful dreadlocks, nobody is going to feel sorry for you.

Incidentally, could you move downwind? Clearly you haven’t showered since you left whatever planet it is that spawned you, and can you go back there as soon as possible? PLEASE? 

Vitriol Girl blogs over here when she is in a better mood

I have an overwhelming grump for tourists who 'do' things. "Then we did Salisbury on our way to  doing Stonehenge after which we will do Avebury." If you are just ticking places off a map then go and frack off. 

PS Don't start me on backpackers

PPS or travel photos

Captain AR Pants esq

1 comment:

AngryTrvlGurl said...

You are totally my hero. Brava!