Ed. — Archived from the Sunday, June 23, print edition.
VIRGINIA BEACH — We live in a town where the passage of time is measured by the months between tourist seasons.
Locals often say, “I can’t wait until the tourists leave,” or “Bring on the school year.” The longing to escape the resort mayhem is palpable soon after Memorial Day when hotels and short-term rentals load up, grocery stores become chaotic and traffic borders unbearable.
We may recognize that the more out-of-state vehicles and unfamiliar faces we see, the better our local economy. But that doesn’t mean we’re happy about the crowded roadways, restaurants, grocery stores and retail establishments. I felt that way for a long time – until a bumper-to-bumper backup on my way to work the other day made me stop to consider our city from a tourist’s perspective.
It’s a bit annoying — and rather endearing — how tourists inhabit our world in a state of sunburnt exhilaration and exhaustion. The excitement these groups exude as they stand along the side of the road, waiting to cross to the beach, is infectious. Chairs, beach buggies, surfboards, coolers and umbrellas envelop all but the tallest members so that sometimes only hats, shoulders, and feet can be seen scurrying to get to the other side of the busy roadways.
Kids squeal, parents holler, horns beep — but these slow-moving assemblages seem oblivious to the cacophony surrounding them. They’re intent on taking it all in — the distant horizon, the sand up ahead, the white caps and blue water. It’s an interesting contrast to what most of us watching them from our cars are doing —grumbling as we head to work, intensely aware of the time passing, totally unmindful of the sun glinting off the water.
At the end of the day, when these same families return to their rentals, the dynamic is no different.
We weary locals can barely sit still in our cars as sand-chafed toddlers trudge across the road behind their parents, who seem weighted with concrete. It’s a wonder there’s still excitement in their voices as they replay their day, plan which restaurant to visit, and talk about how great the area is. They wish they could stay longer. We wish we could get home.
Later in the evening, as we finish up the last chore of the day, tourists pass the house on their way — again — to the beach. Kids race ahead with buckets and flashlights, ready to chase ghost crabs, while the adults trail behind, deep in grown-up conversation. Groups of teens walk to the beach, towels hung over their shoulders, laughter illuminating their way. Grills are going, and music is playing. Someone’s rigged up a projection screen so the kids can watch a movie on the deck. Our “new” neighbors revel in the gorgeous sunset.
“It must be nice to live here,” I hear one of them exclaim, making me smile.
I realize I’m not envious that people are on vacation in the place I call home. I’m happy they’ve come, if only for the simple reminder of our city’s charm during the tourist season.
Yes, it is nice to live here.
The author is a former Virginia Beach Planning Commissioner and college professor. Reach her at leejogger@gmail.com.
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