8 Ways to Identify an Up North Tourist

We see them. They look like us, but something is off. We can pick them out a mile away. Tourists. They’re with us every summer. Flocking, swarming, renting, camping. Browsing the shops downtown. Fleeing their wretched sprawl for our beautiful retreat. They act like only the tourist acts. It’s their scarlet letter. Their burden to bear.

Cartfuls of Booze at Meijer

The tourists crammed in their car and drove five hours on Friday afternoon. They raced to get here. They only have so long. They have to pack it in. That means getting as drunk as possible as quickly as possible. They stop at Meijer on the way into town, and they buy copious amounts of alcohol. Liquor, beer, wine, White Claw. Grocery carts full of 200 bucks worth of booze. They’ve got to buy it all at once. They can’t waste a drop of precious vacation time. Locals shop alone, or with a family member or two. A loud group with a cartful of bottles? You’re looking at tourists.

Honking

The tourist comes from a busy place. He is fighting his way through dystopia and hellish traffic every day. He is laying on the horn the moment someone takes a second too long at the light. We don’t do that Up North. But he does. He might be here physically, but mentally, he is somewhere else. It lingers. He can’t let it go. If you see a guy angrily honking at someone for taking too long to turn left, you know he’s a tourist.

Really Bad Sunburns

The poor tourist is stuck in the unholy office park five days a week, trapped hundreds of miles away from the Big Lake. He is a weekend warrior and has to make the most of it. He gets scorched at the beach on his first day here, and he can’t stop. He’s an addict. The local goes home and takes it easy for a few days. But not the tourist. He doesn’t have that luxury. This is his only chance. He keeps going. Powers through. Heads back to the lake. Braves the sun. His whole torso is beet red. He is a lobster. A man of willpower.