Adventures in Tourist Season

Frapping tourists. I live on a destination island so I suppose I should get used to it. Plus, it's not like I need any help becoming misanthropic. Still and all they can be mighty annoying.

The kids completed thier summer prescribed tour of the Dewey Decimal system today. (The 400's language!) so we shuffled down to the library to prove our worthiness for the final prize package (coupon for an Italian Soda, free book, coupon for free movie rental, coupon for free swim at the pool) and to drop names in the hat for the next to last prize drawing of the summer. I drove back down Main Street to the store, pulled into the parking lot and stopped. Not parked, stopped because there was no place to park. I circled down the back alley by the lumber yard and turned back onto Main. I saw a spot come open right by the mail box which was handy as I had a Netflix to drop off and there is road work further down Main where the post office resides. I pulled back into the parking lot and manuvered for the spot and was stopped by a small class-C rig trying to pull OUT. I was in his blind spot and there was no way he could have seen me so I touched the horn and reversed. As he pulled out I saw another load of tourists take MY spot. Grrr.

"Why are you mad, Mommy?" inquires the Verbalist in full Inquisitor mode, pausing in the midst of I Just Can't Wait to Be King, an apt song for him if ever there was one.

"That car parked where Mommy wanted to."

Parked at last, I herded the children into the store. As I placed the Infant in the cart I heard the Muralist exclaim, "Ounch!" with enough vehemence that I knew it was not a preemptory expression of impending hurt. A passing cart and squeezed her into the gumball machine and pinched her finger. I looked at it and whipped a Care Bear bandage on the spot that might look at bit redder if you caught it out of the corner of your eye, and we pressed on to the bread aisle. All through the store, I admired her bandage and ducked tourists looking for S'mores and beer.

The checker, who also is my neighbor down the lane, duly admired the bandage and the cartoon bears it depicted. We shared a commisserating look and I rounded up the Verbalist (who has determined he can crack the store safe which sits by the lotto display). Loaded back into the car we pulled out of the lot pausing to look both ways before entering the street.

"The car!" shrilled the Muralist spotting the car that had so precipitously taken MY SPOT. She caught the eye of the passenger and waved the pointed to her bandage. I glanced over and caught the slightly shocked look on the passenger's face, and chuckled a bit cruely under my breath: in showing off her prized injury the Muralist gave them the Avian Salute. Heh. Tourists.