Resort destinations like Saratoga Springs often fall prey to carpetbaggers and snake oil salesmen who come to town when the number are high, and stay only long enough to cash in on visitors' craving for reminders of their time spent in the Spa City. Hawking cheaply-made t-shirts, shot glasses sporting scandily-clad, winking Hawaiian girls and birds that utilize the pendulum theory to dip into a glass of red water--there is nothing worse than a cheesy souvenir shop. Just being around one of these smarmy types makes one feel dirty somehow.
Saratoga has seen her share of these joints, hastily rented and open just-long-enough to catch the racing season. The owners then blow out of town, never to return. The word, "accountability" is not in their lexicon. Neither are "neighbors," "friends" or "respected" used to describe these takers.
How many times have you gone on vacation, and of course, wanted to get something that will bring a smile to your face every time you use or see it, because it represents a great time in a fun place? But then you scope out the stores or kiosks that sell souvenirs, and you cringe because the products are all nasty, subtly (or not-so-subtly) sexual or just really poorly-made. And you decide that maybe you can just commit to memory all the good times, and call upon your brain anytime you want to think about your vacation. At least your memory doesn't have "I Went to __ with Stupid" written all over it. Or rats in the basement.