I Hate Tourists

‘Hey, Seb,’ I said, ‘how come you didn’t go travelling in South America after your time in Costa Rica?’
‘What do you mean, Seb?’ I asked. ‘You have a problem with North America?’
‘Well, I just thought that the usual route for people dismayed with the rampant materialism of Western society, that spiritual wasteland where people seek meaning in consumer goods and are increasingly isolated from each other, was to head South -or to Asia- in their search for something more authentic.’
‘Are you asking me why I didn’t go on the hippy trail?’
‘Er, yes.’
‘Because I don’t see how going to a hot country to see poor people and wear baggy trousers is authentic. There are plenty of poor people in North America, and they live right next to incredibly wealthy people, that’s authentic and screwed up.’
‘And I suppose you’re going to tell me next that people in poor countries don’t want to be authentic anyway, that they aspire to materialism and buying Mickey Mouse shaped candle holders too.’
‘Why yes. You know, it’s spooky, it’s like you can read my mind. So I just wanted to see new sights, visit friends, and have time to think. Is that OK?’
‘I thought you picked America because the shallow, keep-it-simple culture suited you.’
‘Like, screw you, dude.’