For the first time in a long while, we actually had a nice sunny day yesterday, even if it was marred briefly by a quick moving thundershower.
It being the first day of the three day Fourth of July weekend, the tourists and summer residents arrived in droves, clogging the roads with heavy traffic and the supermarkets and shops with people picking up the victuals needed for the holiday. Deb and I braved the local supermarket for our bi-weekly grocery shopping (she usually handles this part, seeing as she's off Fridays and can get in and out of the supermarket before the weekenders start arriving in the early/late afternoon). As expected the supermarket was packed.
The large number of out of state license plates on cars in the parking lot told us the summer folk had arrived. Most of the plates were from Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and New Jersey. There were also quite a few from Florida, but they likely belonged to 'snowbirds', folks that summer up here but live in Florida over the winter. Surprisingly we saw none from New York, but that could have been because there were none at the supermarket at that time or we just plain missed seeing them.
Inside the supermarket people were milling around, looking for the groceries on their list. Some were confused because the supermarket had been renovated recently and everything had changed since last summer. The checkout lines were long and every register was running.
For the most part everything went smoothly. And then it happened: I heard the voice of one of the dreaded 'summah people' complaining about something trivial that to them was the most important thing in the world. So ended the dream of a perfect day.
I could continue, explaining about the dreaded 'summah people', but instead I will return to the Weekend Pundit Archives and resurrect posts I made about the topic, starting back in August of 2002 when I was living in the original Weekend Pundit Lake Winnipesaukee Manse. I could just repost them as written, but there are some additions that should be made to give a better idea of what it is that we and others must put up with when the 'summah people' are around. It doesn't apply just to the Lakes Region of New Hampshire, but many other summer places as well. (My friends out on Martha's Vineyard Island can attest to that.)
Before I go any farther I must make something perfectly clear: there is a difference between summer folk and 'summah people'. The first are likable and rarely cause any problems. The second are a pain in the a** to everyone, including the summer folk.
From August 4, 2002:
It being the first day of the three day Fourth of July weekend, the tourists and summer residents arrived in droves, clogging the roads with heavy traffic and the supermarkets and shops with people picking up the victuals needed for the holiday. Deb and I braved the local supermarket for our bi-weekly grocery shopping (she usually handles this part, seeing as she's off Fridays and can get in and out of the supermarket before the weekenders start arriving in the early/late afternoon). As expected the supermarket was packed.
The large number of out of state license plates on cars in the parking lot told us the summer folk had arrived. Most of the plates were from Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and New Jersey. There were also quite a few from Florida, but they likely belonged to 'snowbirds', folks that summer up here but live in Florida over the winter. Surprisingly we saw none from New York, but that could have been because there were none at the supermarket at that time or we just plain missed seeing them.
Inside the supermarket people were milling around, looking for the groceries on their list. Some were confused because the supermarket had been renovated recently and everything had changed since last summer. The checkout lines were long and every register was running.
For the most part everything went smoothly. And then it happened: I heard the voice of one of the dreaded 'summah people' complaining about something trivial that to them was the most important thing in the world. So ended the dream of a perfect day.
I could continue, explaining about the dreaded 'summah people', but instead I will return to the Weekend Pundit Archives and resurrect posts I made about the topic, starting back in August of 2002 when I was living in the original Weekend Pundit Lake Winnipesaukee Manse. I could just repost them as written, but there are some additions that should be made to give a better idea of what it is that we and others must put up with when the 'summah people' are around. It doesn't apply just to the Lakes Region of New Hampshire, but many other summer places as well. (My friends out on Martha's Vineyard Island can attest to that.)
Before I go any farther I must make something perfectly clear: there is a difference between summer folk and 'summah people'. The first are likable and rarely cause any problems. The second are a pain in the a** to everyone, including the summer folk.
From August 4, 2002:
I happen to be fortunate enough to live on the shore of Lake Winnipesaukee in central New Hampshire. Most times it is a joy. But once the summer season rolls around it becomes a mixed blessing.This is one of the most egregious examples of 'summah people', and my first run-in with one on a personal basis. I quickly found out there were plenty more like him in the Lakes Region.
The summer people arrive.
Now those of you that live near summer tourist destinations know what I mean when I say 'summer people'. There are two kinds. The first kind are the folks that come for a week or two and stay at one of the resorts, rental cottages, or camp grounds. I'll also include the folks that only spend weekends at a family owned places. They are, for the most part, pretty nice people, friendly and giving. They enjoy the area and have a good time. The second kind, however, give the rest a bad name. They are the 'summah people'.
This term is spoken in such a way as to be unmistakably derogatory. These are the folks that come to one of the summer resort areas and act as if everyone having the good fortune to live there year round are their servants and underlings. They have no concept of private property, except that their property is private and yours is not.
I've had the misfortune to have to deal with one of the second kind since the weekend after Memorial Day. He rents a boat slip located behind my home. On one occasion he left his dog tied up to a tree in my back yard for the entire day while he was out on his boat. The dog was a Boxer, and not particularly friendly. Due to the length of the rope he used to tie up his dog, access to my back yard and the rest of the boat slips was impossible as the dog would lunge at anyone approaching the dock or entering the back yard.
The local police department was called when one of the other slip renters couldn't leave his boat because the dog would snap and growl at him and his family every time they stepped on to the dock. Just as the Animal Control Officer was about to slip a control noose over the dog's head in an effort to take him away, the owner arrived back at the dock. The invective that followed would have made a longshoreman blush. His attitude was "I rent this damn slip and I'll do what I want!" It didn't matter to him that the only thing he was renting was the slip and access to it through a private yard.
This fellow has also parked in my driveway, blocking access to the garage and everything inside. The first time his SUV was there from Friday afternoon until Sunday evening. I didn't know it was his until he returned and I saw him loading his gear into it. I asked him to please park on the side of the road like all the other slip tenants. His response was "F**K YOU!" He then got in to his SUV and drove off.
My neighbors have use of the driveway when they have relatives visiting for the weekend. On one particular weekend, this fellow again parked his SUV in front of the garage, blocking access. My neighbor's relatives were also visiting, so they parked their cars in the driveway, blocking the SUV in.
Late Sunday afternoon rolls around and the fellow arrives back at the dock. After loading his gear in to the back of his truck, he pounds on my door and demands that the other cars be moved so he can leave. I told him I had no way to do that. I explained that the cars belonged to the neighbors and they had permission to park there. I also reminded him that he did not.
He left, went to the neighbor's door and pounded on it. He got no response. He was then back at my door demanding to know where they were. I told him that they were out on their boat. He then wanted to know when they'd be back.
My response: "How the hell should I know?"
After he sat around and stewed for a while, he called his wife on his cell phone so she could drive up to Lake Winnipesaukee and pick him up. She arrived a couple of hours later. Not more than five minutes after they left my neighbors pulled in to their slip.
When I got home from work Monday afternoon the SUV was gone.
Since then, his SUV has been towed from my driveway once; the Marine Patrol has cited him for dumping oil into the Lakeport Channel when he pumped his bilge; and the city fire department billed him for cleaning up the oil slick.
I guess he just doesn't get it.
This is from May 2004:
Then there's this from June 2005:
One other thing that peeves me about 'summah people' is their poor parking skills. I just love it when I find one of their high-priced vehicles is taking up two or more parking spaces in order to reduce the possibility that someone might actually park next to them. I particularly love it when it's a busy Saturday morning at the supermarket and there are no parking spaces left.
From July 2005 comes this tale of poor taste:
At this point I have to give you folks a break, replacing all 'them negative waves' with something more positive and likable to give some perspective between summer folk and 'summah people'. The following is from July 2006:
Then there's this buzz-kill moment from September of 2006:
This next true tale relates the trials and tribulations foisted upon a year round resident by some of the nastier 'summah people'. I swear some folks don't have a clue when it comes the reasons why people like to come here or live here. From August 2007:
From September 2007 comes this suggestion I'd forgotten and should resurrect:
Now I will add some contributions from BeezleBub's run-ins with 'summah people' while working at the farm.
This tale comes from August 2008:
This weekend has brought out the always dreaded 'summah people' in force. Fortunately we rarely see them at the Paugus Diner unless they mistakenly enter thinking it's something else or are out slumming. There were so many of the upscale "Look-at-me-I'm-stinkin'-rich" autos and SUVs around that a few of us locals and the regular summer folk were starting to feel a little outnumbered. But then the local and state police came to the rescue, issuing a considerable number of tickets to those pushing the local speed limits beyond all reason or trying to rewrite other traffic laws on the fly in order to reinforce their self-importance.Some of them learn the lesson. Some don't.
It's gonna be a good summer.
Then there's this from June 2005:
The influx of visitors for Motorcycle Week hasn't limited the numbers of 'summah people' as it usually does. On our trip from The Manse to Gilsum and back Deb and I saw at least three separate acts of summah people stupidity/arrogance, including one doofus who believed it was OK to pull partway into a driveway and back out again to effect a 180ยบ turn on US Route 3 in Sanbornton, NH. It didn't make any difference to this jerk that there was heavy traffic in both directions on this two lane road or that he damn near paid for his stupidity with his life. And how dare we honk our horns at him? After all he was in a hurry and he had to head back to Boston (I'm assuming that's where he came from due to the Massachusetts plates on his BMW and his obvious traffic skills).You've gotta love those Boston drivers! If nothing else they keep us on our toes and help test our reflexes, just in case they need some work.
One other thing that peeves me about 'summah people' is their poor parking skills. I just love it when I find one of their high-priced vehicles is taking up two or more parking spaces in order to reduce the possibility that someone might actually park next to them. I particularly love it when it's a busy Saturday morning at the supermarket and there are no parking spaces left.
From July 2005 comes this tale of poor taste:
Many times I've mentioned or written about the various types of summer folk who populate the Lakes Region during the summer months. There are two basic types: regular summer folk up to enjoy a weekend/week/month at a family owned cottage/rental/campground/RV park; and "summah people", the obnoxious self-important boors with an attitude that can best be described as condescending.And mentioning food and markets, here's a little gem from only a month later (August 2005), that I found highly amusing and far too indicative of the breed:
The first kind don't stand out. They blend in with everybody else and the only way you'll know that they're summer folk is the license plates on their cars/trucks/SUVs. The second kind stand out all too well, like a sore thumb that will not be ignored.
I won't go into the specifics of "summah people" as I've covered it all too well in the past.
BeezleBub and I were partaking of our breakfast at the Paugus Diner. As per usual, the two of us were sitting at the counter (we sit in a booth when Deb is with us). Behind us were three people sitting at one of the booths. Two of them were locals, but the third was definitely one of the dreaded "summah people." It wasn't just the way she spoke, but the way she looked, carried herself, and gave off that subtle vibe that said "I'm above all you common people." She had that perfectly groomed look that probably took hours to achieve, the kind of look that is supposed to make her look as if she woke up looking as she did, but without a hair out of place. She wore a nice set of shorts and matching top that probably cost here somewhere around $100 (something that you and I would pay less than $20 for at WalMart). Her sandals cost more than her clothes while you and I would be loath to spend more then $10 for a pair of flip-flops. (Not my opinion, but that of one of the younger waitresses at the diner - Thanks, Krista!)
It wasn't hard to hear the conversation going on in their booth. After listening for a few moments I could tell that her companions were not comfortable with the topics of discussion this overbearing vision of loveliness insisted upon bringing up.
Overbearing Vision Of Loveliness (OVOL): "What is it with the people living here? They drive so damn slow, making it impossible to get where I'm going in a reasonable amount of time!"
Local Woman (LW): "You mean driving below the speed limit?"
OVOL: "No. Everybody knows you can push the limit by five or ten miles an hour. What the hell are they waiting for?"
Local Man (LM): "Nothing. They aren't in a hurry. There's no need to be in a hurry around here. That's why a lot of folks come up here for vacation - to get away from that crap."
OVOL: "I haven't got time for that. I've lots to do...."
LW: "Then why didn't you stay home? You could have saved a lot of time by not traveling all the way up here from Connecticut."
LM: "Kinda defeats the purpose of coming up here..."
OVOL: "But this is one of the few places I can relax, except when I have to deal with all the..."
LM: "What? All the what? You mean the locals, don't you? You mean people like your aunt and I, eh? That's a pretty shitty attitude to take, particularly when you're here to relax. Why did you and [your husband] spend all that money for a lake house if you're not going to slow down a bit and relax? Seems like a waste of time and money if you're going to bring all your baggage with you. You've got to learn to slow down before you burn out. Either that or you're going to piss off the locals and they'll have none of that. You think you're frustrated now? Wait until you find it difficult to get anything done because you couldn't leave all that Fairfield County crap behind."
The conversation went along this line for quite some time. The Overbearing Vision Of Loveliness also lamented the fact that there were some food she couldn't find up here, something that Deb has mentioned more than once. The "summah people" come into the market where she's putting in summer hours, looking for a given fruit or vegetable. More often than not it isn't available up here or isn't in season (yet) and they go away angry because "you can't get good food up here in the sticks." Hmm, I don't seem to recall that the food we normally see in the supermarkets around here as "bad" food, just not exotic enough for the "summah people". Of course there are a number of smaller specialty markets around that cater to the tastes of the folk from Connecticut and New York, but one has to know where to look. Occasionally we'll help summer folk find them, but the "summah people" are on their own. We feel no need to feed their overbearing egos.
And so goes another chapter on the bad behavior of the dreaded "summah people."
BeezleBub and I headed up to North Conway to see Deb at her hotel after work.(She was working there temporarily because that branch of the market chain she was working for at the time was severely short-handed in the deli department - ed.) Both of us missed her as she missed us. We went out for dinner and talked about all kinds of things. But one thing in particular, an observation Deb made, stood out above all the other things she brought up.As BeezleBub just reminded me, "The farther north you go, the farther south you get." Amen.
"The short time I've been working up here I've noticed one thing: There are a hell of a lot more "summah people" up here than at the lake. A lot more. It's disgusting."
I knew that "summah people" could be found almost anywhere there were summer activities, but I hadn't realized they could overwhelm some places as they have the Mount Washington Valley.
The worst case Deb experienced was while she serving customers at the deli counter. She was helping this woman, someone obviously not "from here." In the middle of giving her order her cell phone rang. That isn't all that unusual. In most cases the person either lets it ring, shuts it off, or answers it and talks just long enough to let the person on the other end know that they'll call them back. But not this woman. No way.
She stopped giving her order for the various meats and cheeses she wanted to kibbutz on her cell phone with her friend back in New York. In the mean time Deb was standing there, waiting for this woman to continue her order. She would have liked to finish it and move on to another customer as there was quite a line waiting to be served. Did that even occur to this "summah person"? No, not in the least. Every time Deb tried to get this woman to finish her order she'd hold up a finger while continuing her banal and otherwise useless conversation with her friend.
Finally she finished her call and told Deb that "she didn't need anything else." This overbearing and rude woman held up a line of customers at the deli counter for almost 5 minutes because she couldn't take the time to say "I'm all done, thanks."
And folks wonder why we have such an intense dislike for "summah people"?
At this point I have to give you folks a break, replacing all 'them negative waves' with something more positive and likable to give some perspective between summer folk and 'summah people'. The following is from July 2006:
While we were partaking of breakfast at the Paugus Diner this morning, I had the chance to listen to two young women who were obviously visitors to the area comment about what they'd seen while they've been here. Unlike some of the more condescending 'summah people' I've written about in the past, these ladies actually liked what they saw and experienced during their stay. The only complaint I heard them make was that they couldn't stay longer.Indeed they are! In fact we saw and met more than our fair share over this past Memorial Day weekend. About the only negative encounter we had that weekend was described here, when Deb and I were almost killed by an impatient member of the 'summah people'.
These are the type of summer folk we like to see here. I hope they'll come back soon.
Then there's this buzz-kill moment from September of 2006:
BeezleBub and I made it out on the lake yesterday afternoon. The weather was gorgeous, the lake not all that crowded now that a large portion of the summer folk are gone, and the water was calm.Indeed.
We had a great time out on the lake.
It's a shame it was ruined at the very end of our time on The Boat by one of the last of the 'summah people' just as we were approaching our slip.
We were inbound and this guy was outbound. As we passed each other in the channel he says to me in a nasty manner "Why the hell don't you learn how to drive that thing, buddy!" His wife then chimed in, saying pretty much the same thing. They continued on this vein even when they were long past us, their obvious Boston accents carrying across the cove. I have no idea what his problem was, but he ruined an otherwise nice day on the lake. One of the other boaters across the channel from our slip who witnessed this shook his head and shrugged, as puzzled about the incident as I.
One rejoinder came to mind, but as Deb always tells me, I am far too nice to stoop to their level. But if I'd had my druthers, I would have used this quote from Monty Python's Holy Grail:
"I fart in your general direction!"
This next true tale relates the trials and tribulations foisted upon a year round resident by some of the nastier 'summah people'. I swear some folks don't have a clue when it comes the reasons why people like to come here or live here. From August 2007:
A friend of ours one town over has felt the wrath of the "summah people."From what I've been able to gather, those same neighbors have been making life miserable for the owners of the rental property and their tenants since then. What's worse, the owners are the same people that sold the house to the 'summah people' in the first place. I guess no good deed goes unpunished.
She called us today to inform us that she's being evicted from her lakeside apartment because the neighbors, "summah people" that bought the house next door, complained about a number of small events that, quite frankly, are something that anyone living on the lake should realize is normal.
Apparently they took exception to the fact that our friend had a couple of friends over to visit; that her son stopped by to pick up his kids after they had stayed with her for a couple of days; that we had the audacity to tie up at the dock that belongs to the house she rents when we visited her a couple of weeks ago.
What it comes down to is they don't want anyone living next to them that might have a normal life. They want complete peace and quiet. But if that's what they wanted, they chose the wrong place. If it's peace and quiet they want then maybe they should have bought a camp out on one of the islands. Instead, they bullied our friend's landlords into evicting her.
Because of their 'needs', our friend has 30 days to find a new place to live.
I hope that whoever the next tenant might be will be the neighbor's nightmare, with late night parties attended by lots of people with loud Harleys.
From September 2007 comes this suggestion I'd forgotten and should resurrect:
A friend of Deb's has come up with a far better term for "summah people" - tourons, or "tourist morons."I can think of more than a few people this would apply to, even if they aren't 'summah people'.
Now I will add some contributions from BeezleBub's run-ins with 'summah people' while working at the farm.
This tale comes from August 2008:
One of the many jobs that goes along with working on a farm that has its own farm stand is preparing vegetables before they are put out on the various tables and bins. Every morning one of the many jobs that is mandatory is checking corn for worms and rot. If they're bad they get fed to the cows. If good, they're put onto the bins in the farm stand and sold.And so you can see a glimpse of what those of us living in areas where we must suffer the presence of 'summah people'.
Each of the ears are opened and inspected thoroughly for quality. This inspection takes place every morning before the stand opens.
Although the corn meets farm stand specifications, it does not always meet 'summah people' specifications. There are those who insist on finding ears of corn that have nor been opened for inspection. Others will go to the extreme of sniffing the corn, as if it smells different from the corn they buy at home. (It may. The corn sold at the farm stand is fresh, picked that same day.)
Leave a comment