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. 

Yet, it’s not all bad. Despite the occasionally gruesome sunburns, tourists are, often, attractive. There is some strange correlation between being able to afford the vacation Up North and being attractive. I don’t know why, I don’t make the rules. It’s certainly not always true, but it’s true enough of the time to be noticeable. If you see a particularly attractive and particularly sunburnt couple in the store on their phones, they might be tourists. 

At the Beach When it’s Cold

He came for the water and the sand. If we get a cold snap, and he’s stuck with bad beach days, it’s a shame. But he isn’t deterred. He refuses to submit. “We are going to the beach for God’s sake!” The family is out there when it’s on the verge of raining. Black thunderclouds on the horizon, and the kids are still making sandcastles. A group of guys sitting in beach chairs, 30 feet from the shore, drinking beer and bundled up like it’s October. Oh, ye brave pioneers.

Hats

Tourists love wearing hats on vacation. It’s particularly true for women but also true for the guys. If you are walking down the street and you see a woman wearing a nice summer hat, she’s a tourist. She doesn’t wear it in her normal life back home, but she feels different on vacation. The hat fully takes over, and she is transmogrified. Jessie from Novi becomes Vivienne in Cannes. She’s in an alternate reality. The straw hat. The bucket hat. The baseball hat. The guys love them. They all become someone else when they are on vacation. Something comes over the tourists. The hat is part of their final transformation.

Walking With a Cup of Coffee

Locals drink coffee at home. Tourists wake up hungover and stagger out of their rental in search of a coffee shop as soon as they can see straight. They don’t end up getting a cup until 10 a.m. They bust out, balancing two in each hand for their weary companions still recuperating in bed. They tote it around like a Birkin bag. Walking. Sipping. Shopping. It’s a sign of the tourist.

Shirts Printed With the Name of the Town They Are Visiting

Do you wear a shirt with your name on it? No. If you see a family walking around in Charlevoix and the 4-year-old is wearing a shirt with Charlevoix printed on the front, they are tourists. Maybe they forgot to pack T-shirts. Maybe they forgot the suitcase, as they were scrambling out the door, and now they are stuck paying for tourist gear marked up 300% during peak season. The printed shirt calls to the tourist. Maybe it’s even from a place that he previously visited. He is in Traverse City, and he is wearing a shirt from Maine. He’s a tourist. Shirts with place names, always tourists. 

Talking on the Phone While Checking Out 

On their phone, frantically texting your group to meet somewhere in 20 minutes. They are anonymous here. They don’t worry about appearing rude. They will be gone in a few days. It’s natural. Talking on the phone while you are checking out at the store isn’t some grave sin worthy of capital punishment, perhaps closer to manslaughter or negligent homicide. 

Is it possible to avoid looking like a tourist? Does it even matter? Who cares, anyway? It’s fun to be a tourist. You’re a little goofier, a little freer, and a little happier. You laugh at yourself more. Life is carefree. Maybe it doesn’t matter if you look like a tourist. Or maybe it does. If you think it does, and you don’t want to look like a tourist, you should do the opposite of everything on this list. Except, don’t become unattractive. It’s good to be attractive. Stay that way. 

Ultimately, if you don’t want to look like a tourist, you just need to slow down. Don’t check your phone as much. Don’t drive as fast. Don’t honk on a Tuesday at 6 p.m. in a town with a population of 2,000 because the old lady in front of you didn’t dart out into oncoming traffic. Remember that you come here to get away. Realize there will be other trips Up North. Use sunscreen, and let the sunburn heal.

O.W. Root is a writer based in Northern Michigan, with a focus on nature, food, style, and culture. Follow him on X at @NecktieSalvage.