Florida is a vacationer's Mecca. Tourism is the single largest "industry" in the state, generating an obscenely large portion of the state's GNP (gross nasty profit). It is no wonder that within the first year of when my husband and I moved to The Sunshine State, we were visited by nearly every friend and relative we have, and even some who claimed to be related, but only wanted to sell us stuff for our new house.
In the beginning it was very nice to have visitors in our new home. We had been living on the West Coast for a few years and hadn't seen many friends and family, most of who live on the East Coast, up north, where it is cold for more than half the year. Having houseguests was an excuse to explore the area, try new restaurants, and visit the topless part of South Beach, (my husband's idea).
After the fourth trip to South Beach it got kind of embarrassing escorting the gawking sunburned relatives amid the stunningly beautiful, not to mention perfectly tan, inhabitants. By this time we were hip, cool, whatever, and wanted to fit into our new tropical cosmopolitan life style, which expressly forbids contributing to the tourist problem down here. I mean, who would want to take credit for inviting those totally flustered drivers, going only 55 mph, holding up obstructing maps, while unknowingly being hunted by the natives? If you can't drive at least 70 mph with a map in your face and a gun in your hand, you don't belong on the road here. Besides, there is nothing so disconcerting when you get up for a drink of water in the middle of the night, then to have your nakedness suddenly illuminated by an elderly relative searching for a midnight snack in the refrigerator.
During our second year in Florida we had repeat business. The violence reported in the national media scared most folks off. I kept trying to reassure our families that we were safe, and we didn't need to bring automatic weapons to work, (mainly because we aren't employed at the post office). I joked with a friend on the phone that one anyone became a native Floridian and got their driver's license, (the only criteria for native standing), DMV erased the target from their forehead.
So far this year we have had only two visitors, our mothers. The unique thing about this is that they arrived together, having driven down in the same car from Connecticut. I was terrified that by the time they arrived they wouldn't be speaking to each other, (they had met once at our wedding 13 years ago, and neither was impressed with the other). My husband was afraid they'd never make it to our house, two recently single women in a silver sports car looking for a good time.
The did arrive, warm, animated and still speaking, three weeks ago. Friends and co-workers have made my husband and I suffer through every mother-in-law joke ever written. But, the visit went surprisingly well. No one was killed, maimed, or sunburned. "The Moms", as they became affectionately known, had no interest in South Beach or how to obtain a concealed weapons permit. They cooked and cleaned and babysat, expecting nothing in return but a haven from the bitter cold of the northeast, and first dibs on the daily crossword puzzle.
"The Moms" pulled out of the driveway this morning, headed back to Connecticut. In many ways we are sorry to see them go, no more hot suppers on the table the minute we come in from work, and no more babysitting. In other ways it's nice to have the house back to ourselves. The only body I expect to meet naked in the kitchen's in my husband's.