Before Sept. 11, residents loved to gripe at the out-of-state visitors clogging Orlando. But then they were gone.
Mar 11, 2002 | At Orlando International Airport, a billboard featuring a new ride at Sea World stares down over the baggage claim. Tourists packed six in a roller-coaster car, holding their hands up to their faces, look terrified as three fire-breathing dragons prepare to incinerate them.
I grabbed the last, lone piece of luggage on the belt, mine, wended my way to long-term parking, and hit the queue for Interstate 4, a relaxing 30-mile drive, which takes only three and a half hours when the traffic is good. Inching along, I had plenty of time to study the billboards. Here is what I saw:
An ape crushing another roller coaster car of tourists.
A water-park advertisement featuring a bug-eyed tourist being sucked down a drain.
A hideous gnarled depiction of ET beckoning motorists with his abnormally long, glowing and alien forefinger.
The Terminator.
There was more, in the form of "attractions," including menacing dinosaurs, impending natural disasters, and towers with slipshod elevator equipment. I used to dismiss the billboard ads as theme park folderol, designed to lure tourist dollars out of their khaki pockets and into the sleek leather wallets of hotel, restaurant and recreation magnates. Now I saw the ads for what they were: subliminal expressions of Central Floridian animosity toward the tourist industry. On second thought, they're not even that subliminal. I mean, in one, a dinosaur is about to bite off a tourist's head.
Today, the U.S. Department of Commerce ranks Orlando as the third favorite vacation city in the nation. In the past 30 years, over 1.2 billion tourists stampeded through Central Florida and most of them headed for the theme parks. These guests provide such huge tax benefits when they buy airline tickets and hotel rooms that Florida can get by without a state income tax. On the other hand, only a minuscule amount of those tax dollars are spent on Central Florida counties. Which may offer one reason why we want to see all those tourists fricasseed by dragons.
But after Sept. 11, the wretched tourists dumped us just like that. They weren't afraid of the Terminator at Universal Studios, but they were afraid to fly. They weren't afraid of dropping 30 stories on Tower of Terror at MGM, but they were afraid of Osama bin Laden dropping bombs at Disney World, Church Street Station and the outlet malls. Hotel reservations took a 77 percent dive. Unemployment in the Orlando metropolitan area climbed to 5.1 percent. Profits plummeted, which led to shorter operating hours. State lawmakers called two special sessions to address a $1.3 billion decline in state revenue caused by the shortage of tourists.
We hate tourists when they're here, but we hate them even more when they aren't.
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