Give or take a few days before or after Independence Day proper, between late June and early August, you and your family are vacationing in Florida, ether to stay in the placidness and/or the frugality of numerous offsite hotels and timeshares to do multiple theme parks and other rickracks of The City Beautiful, Orlando, and it’s fun-filled vicinity or house yourself in a week-long sojourn in the themed accommodations at the Walt Disney World Resort to revel in your virgin Disney vacation. If kids are with you, they anticipate days of thrill rides, pool sessions, and meetings with pop culture (screened media) characters like Dug from the recent Disney-Pixar feature Up (at Disney's Hollywood Studios) or smart Lisa from The Simpsons (at Universal Studios Florida). You are spending a day at Epcot, a Disney theme park, and despite its many air-conditioned venues, and a rather overcast sky, you experience the sauna-like humidity that bakes visitors each summer. As you go about your business, ready to queue for, say, Mission: Space, you see a massive group of uniformed young adults. Their raiment consists of identical T-shirts in bright yellow, with the word LAGETUR emblazoned front and back, below some distinctive pair of upside-down L’s colored in graduated pink and blue superimposed over a grid model of a globe. The black cursive manuscript over the logo inscribed on the shirts reads, A melhor Disney, and the presence of the graphics are shown on the front and back of the shirts. the group clan either wear yellow bike shorts (for girls) or yellow board shorts (for boys), along with a black fanny pack. Few adults in roughly the same costume guides them with yellow-colored pendant with the logo on them as they chant loudly as if Walt Disney World is one big World Cup venue. You can’t bear it – the group size, the chanting, and the presence – you have learned all too well that there’s more to crowds than school closures, locals, and out-of-towners.

The one you have encountered is one of the collective pet peeves of many visitors who make a pilgrimage to the shrines (not talking about the quieter Mary Queen of the Universe Shrine, for the Catholic set, including me) of fun, thrills, and magic known as the theme parks – tour groups. No, I’m not talking about those from the public schools in the likes of marching bands, end-of-school-year grade set excursions, and show choirs, but the ones I’m bringing up, as the so-called holidays and January are fast approaching, are those inflowing from South America, mainly from its most-populous nation, Brazil, and its neighbor Argentina. Most of us familiarized ourselves with the groups from the former each family vacation in June through August or December to February, but those of Argentina flock to Central Florida as well. Sure, some people call them “the tour groups from heck,” “killer B’s” (in reference to Brazilian tour groups, especially Sao Paulo-based Lagetur), and “weapons of mass annoyance,” but as the name suggests in many names of South American tour groups and because that term stems from both the Spanish and Portuguese term for "tourism," I affectionately call them turismos.

Having been to any given Central Florida theme park (including the ride venue of Tampa Bay locals like me, Busch Gardens) in December-January and June-July, I had my fill of turismos’ apparitions in them, and recently, I learned that not all wear the same shirts (or in the case of Lagetur, same bottoms), but they try their best to maintain their uniformity. Many tour groups don their “anything goes” raiment, but they tote identical backpacks and whatever portable luggage may be. But tour groups, whether in identical costuming or posing as normal tourists with identical portables, have one thing in common: adults corralling them with a pendant or flag. Based on my findings in every theme park daycation (a term involving just a day at Disney’s Hollywood Studios, if you are Floridian and live at most an hour from Walt Disney World), one can only tell a tour group by its pendant or flag.

Well, I imagine many visitors inquiring why they must land on local soil (read: Central Florida theme parks) to annoy the daylights of them each December-January and June-July. Well, I suggest the academic years of the South American nations. In Brazil, the summer vacation occurs on the academic term’s end, in December, and winter break falls on the three weeks through July. The winter holidays in Argentina are more or less identical to Brazil’s, but their summer break extends through early March. The placement of the school closures prompt bookings of mass quinceaneras (15 year birthdays) by travel agents with turismo on it, in the names of Magic Days, Inside Magic, Rogetur, Universal Turismo (not typically referring to Universal Orlando), and the aforementioned Lagetur. With the right ingredients, the school closures, the alternatives to a lavish party for the South American 15-year-old, and booking the most affluent teens, the agents birth their turismos, ready to pervade the parks north of them, in Central Florida.

Believe it or not, turismos are the nuisances of many a typical visitor in the Orlando (and Tampa, if Busch Gardens is in the itinerary) area, but what sets them off. Many visitors and vacationers (including fellow members of many Walt Disney World-related boards) reported being offset by their stentorian chanting in either Portuguese (for the Brazilian set) and Spanish (for the Argentinean set) in the parks, on the buses, and in the hotels. In most cases, I have read on the boards, the action causes quite a stir audibly, thus ranking on the top of the nevgatives of the turismos. For those with autistic children visiting that area, they are the auditory forces of sensory overload, and their football-match-like behaviors can be cruxes of meltdowns. Until that July at Busch Gardens Tampa Bay, I haven’t heard much chanting from them, but the noise seems to rile up tourists here in America and those from well-behaved Britain and Canada (respectively topping the number of Central Florida visitors first and second to Brazil).

Also, they snag viewing spots (should a parade or fireworks display, typically at Walt Disney World, be featured in a park - see "What Annoys You") to obscure disappointed tourists’ views, ruining their experiences. In some cases, they cut in line at any given attraction – if one queues behind a small group of those in identical shirts or bags, the others join in with them, albeit illegal and risky for expulsion without refund. While some are well behaved, the obnoxious turismos seem to be most worrisome for the so-called Orlando vacationers.

So how did I first come to terms with turismos in the theme park in Central Florida. I hypothesize 1991 as the first encounter, since it was my first trip to Florida (as a 2-year-old, to blame my fuzzy memory). I conjectured it as my first sightings of the flag-shepherded herds of 15-year-olds since it was a December (aside from the 20^th anniversary hoopla all over Walt Disney World and the Christmas craze at that time). The first recorded memory of me seeing them was during the family (me, my late father, Muetti, and my cousin) vacation in Central Florida around the July 4 holidays in 1995. The first time I clearly remember seeing one was towards the then-recent, one-drop Tower of Terror at Disney’s Hollywood Studios, then Disney-MGM Studios at that time. The group had yellow shirts, although dimmer than that of Lagetur’s, and I didn’t recall a flag or pendant protruding out of a mix of locals and out-of-towners (like me, until the move to my present home in Tampa Bay in Florida in 1999). In Muetti’s scrapbook, two pictures caught not just me, my uncle, and my cousin, but also that said turismo, probably a Brazilian tour group.

It was when I first obtained my Seasonal Pass in 2008 when I clearly reported turismo sightings. I saw one at Epcot, the first recorded in over 13 years, with light blue shirts, hailing from Chile. In the winter solstice at the Magic Kingdom, I first saw the upside-down L’s on their highlighter-colored shirts – the group was Lagetur, that time in yellow ripstop pants, and I deemed it the first time I saw them that day. I went to Disney’s Hollywood Studios for merriment on a Lent Friday, the commencement of ESPN: the Weekend. The attractions’ queue lines were fantastically curt, save for Toy Story Mania, and I saw just two Argentinean tour groups (one being Transatlantica) in light lavender and grey shirts. (It was a late February, when they still had their summer break.) They didn’t seem to cause a ruckus, though.

With our Seasonal Pass in its block out dates encompassing the entire month of July and my Seattle relatives visiting us, Muetti and I decided to take them to Busch Gardens Tampa Bay, a local favorite. The first day going to the park in 6 years, on a Saturday, I was predicting mounds upon mounds of turismos, and that conjecture came true as the relative, Muetti and I waited for and rode the tram with one Argentinean tour group with red backpacks. Upon entering, taking pictures, and riding various rides, the turismos, both Brazilian and Argentinean, swarmed the park with flags abound on that hot July weekend. On our way to Congo River Rapids (I’m too timid for Kumba, Montu, and until early August, Sheikra, by the way.), Transatlantica made an appearance near the bathrooms near Ubanga-Banga Bumper Cars, and I thought that transplanted themselves out of Disney’s Hollywood Studios in their purple shirts!

At lunchtime, I had to fight through the crowds of tour groups to reach Muetti so I can request the menu item (a sandwich) as well as my cousin’s (from Seattle). Later, I got stuck in a queue with my Seattle relatives for Stanleyville Falls, which was closed temporally due to a thunderstorm, and in that queue behind us were a handful of girls of La Aventura Magica, an Argentinean tour group by Rumbo Joven. They chanted and sat on the rails, but I minded little, in amazement and minor annoyance. I heard another chanting bout from another group (Argentinean, I presume) as they started their experience on Tanganyika Tidal Wave, as I peered from the queue. I avoided virtually all of them as my relatives, Muetti, and I took the Skyride to the Moroccan Palace Theater to see Darren Romeo: The Voice of Magic, an appealing summertime stage show, to end the day filled with crowds and turismos.

The next day (before the Seattle relatives departed home) was a flood – of turismos, that was. I saw one of the guides of Brazilian tour group Universal Turismo in Gwazi Shop while waiting to see Katonga, an exotic, Broadway-style stage show at the Moroccan Palace Theater. A group called Inside Magic (an Argentinean tour group) was in front of Gwazi, with many 15 year-olds in those striped baby-doll tees enterring the ride. After we did quite a bit of shopping with the turismos (and after my little male cousin rode Gwazi Gliders), we headed on to see Katonga, which I call The Lion King on uber-strong espresso. After that show, one of my cousins, my uncle (both from Seattle), and I rode Gwazi. As we boarded the vehicle, I saw a Brazilian tour group going on the opposite one (it’s a dueling woodie). I declared in my head a race against them, and after a ride on it, my group and I won that race. After Gwazi, we took a break, and I ordered mint chocolate chip ice cream, and as I ate it, I smiled wryly at a passing Brazilian tour group wearing shirts about the same color as my scoop, and found that experience simultaneously annoying, coincidental, and intriguing, as both items, one obvious and mobile, and one frozen and edible, closely complement each other. I met the Inside Magic girls again, on queue for Congo River Rapids, and they just chatted, no cause for chanting. After that day, I reported first mentally that I saw more Argentinean tour groups that the Brazilian types that weekend.

On the third time at Busch Gardens that summer, I saw Free Way, an Argentinean tour group, and that’s the only turismo present. I saw none at the Magic Kingdom, but I eyed a Brazilian tour group in yellow shirts (I looked up the name and confirmed it later) outside Epcot Character Spot as Muetti and I queued for photo ops with Mickey and his gang to pass away the dead time between lunching in World Showcase (The Epcot International Food and Wine Festival was at full swing at that time.) and waiting to use our Fastpasses for Soarin, Muetti’s favorite ride, that October, on the Saturday of the Columbus Day weekend. Three girls of the group joined the queue way behind us, but I didn’t care. On Columbus Day proper, after park-hopping (via Friendship boat) from Disney’s Hollywood Studios, I saw another one (just one) in white in front of Future World, flag and all, at Epcot while we ate more samples of international cuisine. I found it so strange to see them that early, as they typically emerge two months from that time. Along with Christmas creep (I saw a blatant store window display at Disney’s Hollywood Studios), I just experienced “turismo creep” as well, I conjectured.

As knowledge has it, it’s relatively easy to survive a Central Florida vacation when the turismos are out in full force. With those helpful tips, your vacation should run with few problems with them.

• Plan for the right time
  As I mentioned, June-August and December-February are high seasons for turismos, so I'd advise you to do Central Florida some other times (not on Spring Break, which is very crowded, although the turismos are all but absent). If you don't mind the dreaded Christmas creep, see the decorations in the theme parks (applicable especially to Magic Kingdom, where its hard-ticket Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party commences that month) in November.
• Go there early, regardless of circumstance!
  Although January is typically quieter in terms of Central Florida theme parks, it's no surprise that turismos do that month too. Regardless of how you spend that day, get there at least 30 minutes ahead of opening. If you are visiting Walt Disney World's quartet, take this to heart and claim your Fastpasses for your favored attractions, as turismo porta-bandeiras (referring to flag-brandishing tour guides) expel distribution kiosks in a pinch.
• Go opposite the flow
  If you see a turismo heading towards you, go for it (that is, the opposite way) - it will save you a lot of grief and terrible memories of loud chanting and line cutting.
• Take a breather
  If you live here in my part of Florida or in Central Florida, you might want to take this advice championed by travel experts - take a break from the bustle of theme parks. That is, come back to the hotel after lunching in the restaurants and playing Mario Kart Wii (or other activity), and then return to the chaos.
  
• Stand your guard
  Don't cave into victimization from turismo-related line-cutting or spot-snagging - block the members' way if they start to reunite their few fellows on queue, and alert an employee if problems persist. The same is true with parades, firework displays, and so forth.

Turismos can be annoying, but manageable with the right advice and planning. I don't like them that much, but I for one developed a natural immunity to them. Bring on December (aside from block out dates), Lagetur, and all the turismos from the land of fire and the land of the samba - I'm not letting them faze my Christmas at Disney anytime soon!

Come the 2010 Mickey's Not-So-Scary Halloween Party, I'll go with Muetti, dress in same-colored shirts, and have me carry a flag (maybe bring some of her coworkers along) - in a pinch, we'll be ready to show off the best costume idea ever at that event - disguising as a turismo!