Thanks for Coming. Now Please Go Home.

Dear Tourists,

I've had enough. You've exhausted me, tried my patience, and zapped whatever goodwill I possessed when you started to overrun my home last summer. My tolerance reached its apex yesterday, when I noticed clumps of you wandering around the far, far West Village poring over your maps and oggling God-knows-what on what would have otherwise been a quiet New Year's Day. I don't know if you were looking for celebrity residents of the Richard Meier apartments on the West Side Highway, if you missed the White Horse and just found yourselves in unchartered territory, or you were just looking for a place to brunch, but I've had enough. It's time for you to go. It's too cold here now, anyway. Please, please, please get out of my city at least until the spring thaw. Leave me MOMA on free Friday nights. Leave me the Corner Bistro for lunch. Leave me the sidewalks of midtown, for God's sake. You've bought enough marked-down cashmere sweaters, sexy Apple electronics, and $100 knock-off bags to schlep back to Manchester, Rotterdam, and Liverpool. You've seen "the tree" at Rockefeller Center. You've taken enough photos of Times Square. There's nothing for you here now except gray skies, slushy gutters, and wind-whipped cross streets. Go to Miami. Go to Honolulu. Go to L.A. It's warmer in all of those places.

I know you'll never go away forever, but just leave New York to the New Yorkers for a few months, okay?

xxx...res