THENEWYORKER,SEPTEMBER21, 2020 17
the other day, from his home, in Evergreen,
Colorado. “The world is different than
it was. The tourism business is suffering.
But it just doesn’t make a lot of sense to
get on a plane right now, unless you re
ally have to.”
Lately, Levy has been pushing an al
ternative to Stateside travel: obtaining
a twelvemonth worker certificate from
Bermuda. His company represents the
British territory, which is situated ap
proximately six hundred and fifty miles
off the North Carolina coast and has a
population of more than sixty thou
sand. Unlike most places, Bermuda
wants visitors—its economy is depen
dent on them. “There’s practically no
COVID there,” Levy said. (Only a hun
dred and seventy seven COVID cases
have been confirmed on the island; eight
are currently active.) “It’s a prime op
portunity,” he added. “And they’ve got
really robust testing.”
More than three hundred people from
a dozen countries—including Brazil,
China, South Africa, and Bangladesh—
have applied for Bermuda’s certificate
program, which launched in August.
Certification for a twelvemonth stay
costs two hundred and sixtythree dol
lars (lodging not included). Sadie Mil
lard, a New Yorker in her forties who
works as a partner at a Wall Street bro
kerage firm, got a head start. She was
visiting her boyfriend, who works as a
civil engineer in Bermuda, when COVID
hit New York, in March. “I came for the
weekend, then things got crazy,” she said.
Airlines began suspending outbound
flights from the island, her firm closed
its offices, and employees began work
ing remotely. She decided to stay. Her
partners at the firm are fine with it. Even
if there were inperson meetings to at
tend (there are not), New York is just a
twohour flight away.
Trading her sixhundredsquarefoot
apartment for a house near a golf course
was not a tough call. “Nothing was open
in New York,” she said. “No theatre, no
concerts, no anything.” Storm season
has arrived, but Millard, who expects to
receive her worker certificate next week,
is taking her chances: “I’d rather go
through a hurricane than get COVID in
New York City.”
Back in Colorado, Levy couldn’t stop
himself from pitching a potential future
traveller on Nebraska, one of his stalled
accounts. What would this tourist do
there? “It’s really worth floating down
a river in a livestock tank with a few
buddies,” Levy said, a pastime that lo
cals call “tanking.” He added, “But only
once it’s safe again.”
—Charles Bethea
“Oh, that’s just all the online yoga she’s been doing lately.”
• •
ropes? The campaign was intended to
slow the spread of the coronavirus in a
state that’s had more than sixty thou
sand cases of COVID19, while simulta
neously whetting travellers’ appetites for
post pandemic trips.
Campaigns to keep people out are
not exactly new. In the seventies, an Or
egon governor proclaimed, “For heav
en’s sake, don’t move here.” Long before
Seattle became a mecca for Kurt Co
bain fans, a prescient local journalist
popularized the slogan “Keep the Bas
tards Out!” In 2018, Nebraska introduced
the catchphrase “Honestly, It’s Not for
Everyone,” which actually succeeded in
bringing more people to the Cornhusker
State—“which had been among the least
likely states for anybody to visit for a
long time,” John Ricks, Nebraska’s tour
ism director, said recently.
Ricks, who is based in Lincoln, helped
come up with “Honestly, It’s Not for Ev
eryone,” which was inspired by a concept
from the field of medicine. “Inoculation
is what we call it,” Ricks said. “That’s
where you feed off the negative percep
tion.” He went on, “We’ve been fortunate
during this COVID crisis. People say, ‘Go
to open places, smaller cities, rural com
munities, places you’ve never been.’ Well,
that’s our product!” Of course, if there
were an uptick in cases, Nebraska could
change course and tout the old percep
tions of the state. As Ricks put it, “Noth
ing to do, flat and boring, dusty plains.”
Jimmy Im, the Brooklynbased founder
of the Web site TravelBinger, claims to
have visited more hotels around the world
(“six hundred and counting”) than any
one else, and has been to some forty states
in his capacity as a travel professional.
“And I’ve been invited to many of the
rest,” he said, mentioning Nebraska. But
for now he’s staying put at home, in Wil
liamsburg. Im offered tourism boards
some unsolicited slogans, to help them
keep vacationers away. Florida: “Gover
nor Ron is a Douchebag.” Iowa: “Not
Enough Attractions.” California: “It’s a
Natural Disaster.” Idaho: “NeoNazis
and Whatnot.”
Telling tourists not to go somewhere—
facetiously, or as a matter of life and
death—is an aboutface for most travel
industry professionals. “It’s hard,” Camp
bell Levy, a vicepresident at Turner, a
publicrelations company with travel
related clients in two dozen states, said