TOURIST SEASON

Yes, it's that time of year again.

Time for that Canadian Mecca-like pilgrimage to my little hometown.

Now I'm a reasonable guy, (well, not really) but I'm gonna help you out with a few tips, pointers, and a few ground rules to smooth the inevitable tourist/local friction that accompanies your little uninvited ass.

Until Florida officially changes its state motto to "the come as you are state", let's keep in mind a few things. That 'black socks with sandals' look that is apparently so popular where you live, is no longer allowed here. Although hilarious to see, I took a vote, and you lost. 1-0.

And that neon Hawaiian floral print moo-moo?, that's out too. As a general guideline to save us all, if you wouldn't wear it at home, don't wear it here.

My rules. I make 'em up.

Consideration is key.

Keep in mind that just because your bright white, soon to be sunburned ass is on vacation, doesn't mean everyone else is.

Buy map, read map, study map, then proceed to destination.

Renting one of these stupid go-cart thingys does not mean I won't run your ass off the road.

As a matter of fact, I'm gunnin for you.

And just 'cause you see a pelican does not mean you can stop in the middle of the damn street to get a picture of it.

That's not the only pelican left.

I promise, there's more.

You also should know that all those shells and starfish on the beach are ours! They're there for our kids to find (and throw at you). Your shells are for sale at that brightly painted souvenir stand with the palm tree roof and the bathing suit mannequins with no heads.

Hey, and while you're there, hows about pickin up a coconut monkey, a rubber alligator, a seashell lamp, a shark tooth necklace, a 'life's a beach' towel, a new pair of flip-flops, and a 55 gallon drum of sunblock?

Our economy is a smidge tight, we need the dough.