They are gone, you can come out now

A gazillion years ago, the Beach Bistro ran an ad in the island paper at the end of tourist season. It portrayed a group of waiters waving to a flock of geese flying in V formation. Presumably, the geese were flying north.

The caption read, "They're gone. You can come out now." The less-than-subtle implication was that the snowbirds had flown, and there were available tables in our dining room.

Invariably I got a half dozen poison pen letters shaming my ingratitude for the tourists and damming me as moronic because if it were not for the tourists' money, all of us islanders would be living in hovels on the beach watching our children starve. 

The "they are gone" ad has come true. The tourists have flown. A couple of massive storms, a biblical flood, and a gazillion tornados just disappeared. I believe we may be to blame.

We have all had one of those days when we spent hours in traffic backed up past 59th St., trying to get to the beach. By the time we reached those boneheads riding horses in the water, we had worked ourselves into a froth, fervently wishing that all those dam snowbirds would go the hell home.

I fear that all of us, sharing that one wish so forcefully, so often, finally birthed Helene and Milton. We wished up a couple of hurricanes that blew away all those visitors.

They are gone now. Next time you are passing through the intersection of Manatee and 75th Street, cast a glance to the west. The roads are clear and as naked as a hot Monday in September. There is no one out there. The tourists are gone.

The beaches are empty and pristine. You can frolic like Burt and Debbie in From Here to Eternity.

Conditions are perfect for a quick visit to the beach. A straight shot out to the gulf with the wind in your hair, then easy parking right next to your favorite beach spot. For years, mainlanders have been griping about inadequate parking. Well, the parking is there in abundance now.

One of life's great pleasures is a visit to the beach. It is time again. Catch a magnificent sunset, enjoy a leisurely dinner—with no wait—or just settle onto a vacant bar stool. 

Cruise back to town warm and salty, sand between your toes and sunglow on your cheeks.

All of this wondrous beach access because of those angry years of cussing and wishing away the tourists. We finally blew them all away. They are gone. You can come out now.

Sean Murphy is one of the Gulf Coast's most renowned chefs and restaurateurs. He was the founder of the Beach Bistro and Eat Here restaurants and is currently the proprietor of the Doctor's Office restaurant and craft cocktail bar on Holmes Beach.