I really don’t like the Magic Kingdom.
No, I’m not one of those rabidly conservative, anti-Disney, moral purists. It has nothing to do with Disney’s corporate philosophy, culture, or politics. In fact, it actually doesn’t have anything to do with Disney at all. I feel pretty much the same about Las Vegas, Planet Hollywood, House of Blues, Sandals resorts, casinos, and most cruise lines that travel the Caribbean. It’s not so much that I don’t like the places–though I don’t actually find them very satisfying. As a sweeping generalization, what I really don’t like is Americans on vacation, or the places that exist solely to cater to them.
Why must Americans on vacation lose all sense of genuineness? It seems that our culture has convinced us that when we’re on vacation, the usual rules are suspended. Not only are we off the clock with our employers, but we aren’t even obligated to observe normal social relationships. I see people abandoning their trash, dropping food on the floor, messing up hotel rooms, being rude to servers and hotel personnel, acting goofy and rude to each other at the pool or the beach, driving badly, and generally behaving as though there will be no consequences for their actions (or lack of action).
It upsets me that employees at hotels or restaurants in vacation spots act as though it’s extraordinary when I show them a bit of respect. If I see a maintenance worker carrying heavy equipment to fix the plumbing in another room, I’m going to hold the door open for him. This isn’t extraordinary, it’s common sense: we all want the plumbing fixed! If I tell a server in a restaurant that we’re not in a hurry and she can finish whatever she’s up to before hearing what we need, there’s no reason to blink in surprise and fawn all over us when she returns. If I wish the hotel cleaning staff a Happy New Year when they’re working on New Year’s Eve, I’m not expecting anything special in return, I’m just being human. It disturbs me that folks in the hospitality industry are so used to self-indulgent, self-centered behavior that they react with delight at a guest who recognizes them as fellow human beings.
It’s obvious that the corporations that operate these places encourage their guests to adopt a self-centered attitude. It’s not just the employees: it’s the whole environment. Vacation spots are built for no other reason than to house and entertain vacationers. Places like the Las Vegas strip, the Florida coastal hotels, and Caribbean cruise ships wouldn’t exist if not for hoards of people who believe these are the best places to blow off steam. The buildings don’t house anyone long-term or serve any local purposes. These aren’t the hotels at airports that serve routine business meetings or trade events. They aren’t historic sites, and they have no innate culture of their own. No one stays here for more than a few days at a time. People don’t come expecting unique art, music, architecture, or anything else they couldn’t get at any of a dozen other vacation spots. The only rule is that guests must have a good time and want to come back, no matter what it takes.
The vacations I’ve enjoyed and remembered most are the ones that offered something unique that couldn’t be found anywhere else. Cities like New Orleans, London, Tokyo, Krakow, Sydney; outposts like Alice Springs (Australia), Ouray (Colorado), Christchurch (New Zealand). Natural wonders like Waimea Canyon in Hawaii, the Drake Passage in Chile and Argentina, Uluru in Australia, or the Lemaire Channel in Antarctica. Even relaxing, “getaway” places like a modest cottage in the woods or in the mountains or along the beach in California. In places like these, there’s a local culture that predates tourism. There are people who’ve lived there for generations, who’d be there with or without me visiting. There are geographic or historical features that owe nothing at all to guests and visitors. When I visit, I behave politely to the locals because this is their home and I’m their guest. People there are nice to each other because they live together and have longstanding relationships with each other. They have more right to be there than I do, and their families will be there long after I’m gone. It’s a privilege to be able to visit, whether or not I’m paying for room, board, and passage.
Maybe I’m uncomfortable with myself, but I just don’t find it entertaining to be in a place where everything revolves around me. I don’t find it satisfying to be catered to by professional entertainers in a place that was built solely for entertaining, because there’s nothing special about it: it’s 100% expected, and it’s 100% paid for. There’s no originality, and nothing that adds to my own sense of self.
I think a big part of my distaste for “vacation spots” is the lack of relationships between people. I actually like relationships and I like working on them. I like experiencing people who are different from me and who have things to teach me. I don’t mind a misunderstanding or embarrassment if I can learn something from it, and maybe teach someone else something new, too. I treasure friendships that I have to work on, rather than simply buy. And I very much appreciate seeing and doing things that are amazing and wonderful, but would be there with or without tourists. Things and places and people that have their own reasons for existing.
There’s a reason that Las Vegas or Disney World are so expensive, while you can pretty much wander through the great Redwood forests of California and Oregon for nothing at all. It isn’t because one is more fun or rewarding than the other. It’s because the Redwoods weren’t built as a money-making enterprise. They don’t need to recuperate their investments or deliver profit to their owners. Niagara Falls is there whether we rent an expensive hotel room or not. Tokyo, Paris, Barcelona, and even New York City will be there and will be amazing places to be whether tourists come or not, and you can visit them for very little money if you really want to.