Select Page

Postcards to inspire change

Florida Vaycay 2047

Hope we’re still here…

Welcome Laura’s Friends!

If you’ve discovered this page, that means you’re a lucky recipient of one of Laura’s postcards from her family vaycay to Florida in 2047.

Read on to learn more about her family’s visit to an all too possible future Florida. 

Meet Laura

January 29, 2047


We’re going on Vaycay! To Florida!

Dad’s been planning the trip in secret. Won’t share the dets. For sure, Miami where Mom and Dad grew up. Dad gets 😢 when he talks about how they had to leave after the hurricanes. That was way before I was born.

February 3, 2047


I don’t know anybody who’s ever been to Florida, cept M/D. What if they have a hurricane while we’re there? What do I even pack? Do I need a sunstroke suit? Def Need to print out a new bathing suit. 



February 7, 2047


Told Kelsey about vaycay and she got all snit. Said I’m gonna get bit by a mosquito and die or eaten by a ginormous snake. Some BEFF. She’s just jelly. Asked Mom if Florida was really safe. She says it’s AG.


February 12, 2047


2MOR is the big day. We leave right after breakfast. No way I’m sleeping tonight.

I’ve packed and repacked at least ten times. Can’t wait to see a real ocean. Maybe even dolphins.


February 14, 2047

Welcome to Florida!

Kinda D. No palm trees or beaches. Just some bored looking dudes making dad fill out piles of paperwork at the “welcome center. Took our pics, eye scans and DNA even. Like what we’re gonna steal the beach?! 

More people leaving than coming. Mom says they’re climate refugees. Guess like M/D were once. 

Sent cool postcard to Kelsey. Now she’s really gonna be jelly!


February 15, 2047


First night in Florida. Motel pool Yucky green. No luck in theme park ticket lottery. Spent the day playing sad mini-golf. Florida is kinda LMAO so far. Sweaty 247. Mom promises Miami’s gonna be Gucci.


February 17, 2047


 Saw my first palm tree. Sorta shriveled and all brown. So much water. Like the ocean just swallowed up everywhere. Mom vetoed swimming, AGAIN!

All these super tall buildings sticking up out of the water. Got to ride in watercab. KEWL. Can’t imagine living here. Even hotter and more sweaty. Ugh!


February 19, 2047

Miami Beach

YAAS, finally some FUN! Got to snorkel Collins Ave. It was RADEC. Like an underwater city for fishys. Did my best mermaid under the sea. 🔥🤩 

Dad and Mom both seemed kinda 🥲.


February 24, 2047

Overseas Park

def Dad’s fav. Said it reminded him of when he was my age and the grands took him to Key West. Cept back then, you could drive all the way. Now the road stops here. But campground is funderful. Mom tried to teach me to surf. I am officially the queen of the spectacular wipe-out. 😖


March 1, 2047


Last stop. Mom said we were lucky to get to stay overnight cuz they only let a few visitors in. Thought I was gonna be big D here. Totally Badong. Turned out to be best part of Vacay. Got to CHILLAX with the local kids. Mabbe even had a little vaycay situationship. Lips sealed!


Help us share Laura's vaycay adventure

Sign up to receive a FREE set of five Vaycay 2047 postcards. Send them to your elected officials, business leaders, environmental advocates or anyone you think might want to join us in reimagining the future of Florida tourism.

Add me to your email list. (We won’t share your information with anyone or spam you with unwanted emails.)

March 4, 2047

Leaving Florida

Back at the “welcome center.”. Cause we got visitor passes, we skipped the long line to get out. M/D and me all exhausticated. Florida is def too sweaty for me. TBH fun trip but glad to be going home. Can’t wait to share all the tea with Kelsy.

LNK, Laura


How did we get here?


Hope We’re Still Here!

For Laura’s parents, the Florida vaycay was supposed to be a chance to share childhood memories with their daughter. They imagined revisiting their favorite beaches and tourist attractions.

What they found was a state ravaged by superstorms, rising seas, water shortages and scorching temperatures. Many of the state’s most famous landmarks are gone- wiped away by the forces of an angry planet. Florida 2047 is almost unrecognizable to anyone who might have lived here in 2022. 

The impact of climate change on the state has been every bit as severe as the scientists had predicted. Most of the barrier islands and large swaths of the coast are permanently underwater. Record heatwaves, droughts, wildfires, and red tides are the new weather norm. Oh yeah, don’t forget serious shortages of clean water, increased disease, and widespread crop failures.


One of the few studies on the impact of climate change on Florida Tourism concluded that the industry could lose nearly $40 billion dollars annually by mid-century if the state continues its current path of denial, delay, and incrementalism. And that study was done long before the IPCC issued their most recent dire climate projections.

Land of Stubborn Optimists

But if there is one truth about Florida, it is a land of stubborn opportunists.

Since Henry Flagler convinced rich northerners that the mosquito-infested swamps of Palm Beach were the ultimate vacation destination, Florida’s tourism entrepreneurs have concocted some amazing schemes to lure outsiders here. So, we can assume that the hardiest of them will still manufacture postcard-perfect panoramas worthy of Instagram, even as the state sinks into the sea. But what would it take to survive in a hot, wet Florida future?

The choices would be stark. Hospitality businesses could:

  • Harden infrastructure at enormous costs. A move that would likely price out all but the richest visitors.
  • Spend heavily on marketing to over-hype reduced offerings. Hope that you get enough one-time visitors to stave off bankruptcy.
  • Pivot to fresh forms of tourism that protect the planet and respect local communities. This tactic would come at the cost of significantly limiting the number of visitors.


Some of the new attractions we can imagine waiting for Laura and her family include:


After spending billions to harden its infrastructure, this international playground for the rich and famous is filled with massive pumping stations, forty-foot seawalls blocking the view of the ocean and condos that are half submerged but somehow still filled with rocking clubs. South Beach now promotes itself as the home of Disaster Luxury.


The behemoths of Florida tourism based in Orlando stay afloat by spending billions on hardening their infrastructure. Of course, those costs get passed on to their guests. By mid-century, the domed theme parks have become the exclusive retreat for super rich families. Few of the second-tier attractions can afford the costs of hardening. Orlando’s once crowded I-drive is now spotted with faded facades of dying businesses. The decline in tourism has had a surprising impact on the rest of the city. Without the pressure of serving millions of visitors, the city has shifted resources to community development and continues on its path toward becoming a center of green excellence.


The spine of the state from north of Orlando to Lake City has long been home to smaller attractions more attuned to the natural environment. This commitment to protecting green spaces is severely challenged by the massive influx of climate migrants moving into the “safest” part of the state. Most of the area’s springs, once famous for their pristine waters, are increasingly unfit for recreation. These pressures prompt a growing resistance to outsiders, especially tourists. Still, a few of the most innovative eco-adventures are prototyping new models of regenerative tourism.


Treasure Island is largely underwater. The flood of seniors moving to Sarasota and St. Pete in search of the fountain of youth has slowed to a trickle. Some ingenious entrepreneurs saw the need to rehouse the seniors flooded out of their beach front condos as a perfect opportunity. The result was the development of floating communities that promise to recreate the Florida retiree dream, for those who can don’t mind the occasional bout of seasickness. Ana Maria Island has become the first spot in the state to be granted eco-community status by the United Nations. The community enforces serious restrictions on the number of visitors allowed. Those that get in must take part in the community’s ongoing efforts to rewild its coastline.


After being repeatedly battered by cat 5 and cat 6 hurricanes, the panhandle, from Carrabelle to Navarre, has become the ghost coast. Local governments, abandoned by the state and private insurers, lacked the funds to rebuild. What beaches remain are littered with the skeletons of destroyed condos and the spiny legs that once held beach houses above the tide. The few tourist companies working in this area offer Mad Max style adventures where the rules are few and the risks many.


It’s too late to avoid the impacts of climate change. Even if we eliminated all fossil fuels tomorrow (impossible) and spent billions in environmental restoration (unlikely) Florida will be less inviting in the coming decades. But we still have choices about how we adapt to these changes. If we act quickly, we can create a Florida where people and planet thrive. We can still imagine a future where a regenerative and sustainable tourism industry contributes to the well-being of communities while working to repair the damage caused by a century of exploitation.


Reimagining the future of tourism in Florida requires an open conversation about all our needs, desires, and wants. It means facing the realities of climate chaos and acknowledging the role tourism plays in our economy. But as long as Florida’s business and government leaders remain focused on heads in beds, that dialogue won’t happen. It’s up to us to raise our voices and demand that we address the challenges of climate change and over-tourism. There are lots of ways you can help spark this conversation. You could write your local and state politicians. You could join protest efforts like Extinction Rebellion or FridaysForFuture. Run for office or support like-minded candidates. Create your own future art projects like this one.

order a Package of Postcards to Send out yourself (Its Free!)

Sign up and we’ll send you a package of five Hope We’re Still Here postcards. You decide who needs to be reminded that Florida’s future is in our hands. All it costs you is a few minutes of your time (and five first-class stamps). Isn’t our future worth that? 

Add me to your email list. (We won’t share your information with anyone or spam you with unwanted emails.)

Conceived and Written by Joe Tankersley
Postcard Art by Nick Farrantello
Postcard Lettering by Claire Wiley
Web Design by Karyn Zuidinga