Embracing Your Inner Tourist

While I love to travel, (except the flying) I'm not always comfortable with being a tourist. Some people don their tourist hat proudly: take a lot of pictures, wear a fanny pack, see the obvious attractions, wait in long lines, and my favorite: stop to check a map in the middle of a walking crowd.

It's fun and easy to be a tourist at some destinations: Wisconsin Dells, Vegas, Mexico, etc. They love tourists and welcome them. Their livelihood is dependent on them after all.

But at others, tourists are not so happily tolerated. In large cities (ahem, New York) you best not dawdle in the middle of a sidewalk, or hesitate when ordering a slice of pizza from a street vendor. The Seinfeld Soup Nazi episode may be a bit of an exaggeration, but there is an element of reality and truth to it as well. 

In a couple of weeks we leave for New Orleans, and we will be there during Mardi Gras. I'm not too worried about the decadence, crime and other shenanigans. We will keep ourselves safe. I do hope that we can fully enjoy and immerse ourselves in the Mardi Gras spectacle without being too much the tourist. Or... maybe I'll just forget all that and give in to my inner tourist: "I'm here. I'm on vacation. I'm a tourist and proud of it!"