The Bland Genius of Williamsburg, VA
And the uncommon sense of their revolutionary new ad campaign.
The Bland Tour
The Williamsburg Tourism Council deserves whatever the highest honor is that America bestows upon tourism councils.
Williamsburg is a city in the Commonwealth of Virginia that is, essentially, the “living history” capital of America. The city is home to the Jamestown Settlement, Historic Jamestowne, Yorktown Battlefield, several history museums, a number of historic houses, and the jewel of their historical tourism empire: Colonial Williamsburg, the world’s largest living history museum.
It should come as no surprise, then, to find that Williamsburg, VA is one of the most famously disappointing places in America.1 And so we honor them here for opening their new radio advertisements with these words:
“In Williamsburg, Virginia, there’s never too much of a good thing…”
It’s brave. It’s bold. It’s disruptive. It’s admirable—nay, commendable—the way they own the fact that, frankly, there is nothing good in Williamsburg, VA.
Now, before we go around handing out brass plaques (or whatever) for “Most Self-Aware and Counterintuitive Ad Campaign” (or whatever), isn’t it possible the city was actually trying to communicate how bountiful the fun is in Williamsburg, but just… made a mistake?
Isn’t it possible this was an innocent, well-intentioned play on the phrase “you can never have too much of a good thing,” but they fumbled the wording in such a way that it actually communicates the idea there are no good things in Williamsburg?
Of course not!
If they wanted to tell us how fun Williamsburg is, they would have just said something cleaner, like:
“Williamsburg, VA — Good old-fashioned fun!”
or
“Williamsburg, VA — Step into the fun zone.”
or
“Williamsburg, VA — Get jiggy wit’ it, Big Willie Style!”
It’s almost inconceivable that a serious organization of serious people would accidentally advertise how dull their product is. An oversight of that magnitude would be staggering.
And this isn’t some oblivious committee of stooges who can’t string a couple of words together in a cohesive sentence. I mean, this isn’t the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers or something—we’re talking about the goddamn Williamsburg Tourism Council!
Sure, they’re a little behind the times what with their butterchurning and their blacksmithing and their incessant fifery, but they must be acutely aware of their broader cultural reputation.
Note how the sentiment was once captured in an episode of the prestigious network comedy2 30 Rock:
LIZ: People are going to show up expecting all this great stuff and they’re going to be disappointed and angry.
TRACY: Just like Colonial Williamsburg.
So obviously the Williamsburg Tourism Council knows what they’re doing. They may not have microwaves, but they certainly have balls. They’re leaning into it. They’re lowering expectations. Williamsburg is forgettable and that’s okay. People like “forgettable.” Most of life is forgettable—mostly because people are on their phones. And most of what they scroll past on their phone is forgettable, too.
Memory Wane
I took a family vacation to Williamsburg once—or so I’m told. The most memorable thing about the trip is how little from it I remember. Ostensibly, people go there in search of history, but I went and got my search history deleted, which is to say I have almost no memory of the trip.
No cookies; only crumbs.
And that’s saying something because “search history” wasn’t even really a thing yet. At the time of my pilgrimage to the PIlgrim Age, society was closer to this…
…than it was to this:
And that is, perhaps, the truest testament to the existential boredom that is Williamsburg. The trip went unremembered not because I preferred to be left alone with my iPhone, but because I preferred to be left alone with my… own thoughts?
Bleak.
It’s ironic how a living history museum can be so lifeless. The place is just a chore—probably because it’s a place where people are just doing chores...
To be fair, there is technically more to the city than a guy dressed up like the Marquis De Lafayette pretending not to know what sunglasses are. It’s not all horse-drawn carriages and cabinetmaking classes.
Williamsburg proper still has all of our modern luxuries, like Bird scooters, Buffalo Wild Wings, antibiotics…
And also, rollercoasters. This old-fashioned, family-oriented vacation destination is also home to the beer-themed amusement park known as Busch Gardens. Picture Duff Gardens, but actual.
Technically it’s no longer owned by Anheuser-Busch or beer-themed, but was at the time of my visit. We had a two-day pass to the park. On the first day, most of the rides were closed for maintenance. This was more or less a wash as I wasn’t particularly into rollercoasters—or drinking (on account of the fact that I was twelve). Though I concede that a few hefeweizens and switchback inverted corkscrews would have made the trip more memorable (on account of the barfing).
On the second day, we tipped the Dunkin’ Donuts drive-thru attendant with our extra tickets and got out of Dodge.
Blanks For The Memories
That’s it. Those are all my memories from Williamsburg, VA.
It’s almost suspicious how little I recall…
I mean, something else must have happened, right? I spent the better part of a bad long weekend there. Nothing notably unfortunate? Nothing mildly interesting? Family vacations are inherently memorable—so why wasn’t this one?
Now I’m left with so many questions. Like, did I even make any cabinets? And were they shaker style or beadboard? Did the bathrooms have hand dryers? Dispensable hand soap? Indoor plumbing? Did Busch Gardens sell souvenir rollercoaster beer coasters?
I’m starting to feel like Jason Bourne—like I have to go back and find the answers.
And this is the genius of Williamsburg, VA. It’s a city so unimpressive that it fails to impress anything on the memory. The city is so vibrantly bland that you have to visit twice just to prove to yourself that you actually went the first time.
It gives new meaning to that old phrase, “Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it.”
Never change, Williamsburg… though, I guess that’s kind of your whole deal. ⚑
Do The Write Thing
If you enjoyed this exceptionally written piece about a poorly written ad campaign, please consider supporting the Writers Guild of America. The members of the WGA are responsible for writing all your favorite shows and movies, but today they write snappy picket signs in their fight for fair wages and working conditions.
Surely this community of writers gets it. Maybe one day Substack’s shiny “new economic engine for culture” will be able to produce season two of Severance. But until then, here’s how you can help.
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Right behind Blue Ball, DE.
Ironically, a “prestigious network comedy” is now, itself, an antiquated idea.
I grew up in Alexandria, Virginia, which means I had to go on countless field trips to Williamsburg. Eventually, I had a son, somehow, and then I had to go on similar field trips as a chaperone.
I got a few paragraphs into this piece and knew I had to subscribe. Thanks for taking the lead on this; your article is an important public service.