The pest ranges in size from a four-limbed beast to an animal sporting seemingly millions of appendages when they travel in packs. Locust-esque, it gobbles up any and all gaudy trinkets, shiny or air-brushed, mostly within Times Square. They clog up sidewalks, aiming unwieldy cameras to strained eyes, craning their necks skyward and probably speculating just how a certain engineering marvel could possibly stay standing. These pests remain distinctive in dress, from the hat (usually trumpeting their hometown/preferred national region) down to the sensible walking shoes.
They arrive bearing maps and guidebooks, expecting these objects to show them the wonders of the city. After many hours of sightseeing, they slump down in seats at subway cars and restaurants, visors sliding down their foreheads. The next morning, they’ll wake with the sun to do it all over again, until they scurry off to their comfortable hometown.