In a small, atmospheric restaurant in Lisbon last week, fado singer Tina Santos rose from her table, nodded to the guitarist and launched into rich songs of melancholy and abandonment, her eyes screwed closed with emotion.
Either emotion, or Tina was wise to what was coming next: a barrage of clicks, whirrs and flashes as a rush of diners framed that special moment for ever. Except that, in the middle of the scraping chairs, the anti-redeye strobe effects and couples trying to manoeuvre each other into position for an action shot, it didn't really feel that special any more.
Tourists who annoy others with their cameras have a long and rich history, but - as with all conflicts - technology has escalated the effects. Where once they'd point a wind-on Instamatic for 24 exposures per holiday, 21st-century tourist comes with camcorder, digital camera and mobile phone, sometimes all at once.
The simple Camcorder Man, who arrives in the Louvre, videos the Mona Lisa, and leaves without once taking the thing from before his eyes, cuts a pitiful figure. But he is at least a discreet menace compared with the new Mobile Muppet, ignoring all around while holding his phone aloft, trying to capture a grainy image to send to a mate who couldn't care less.
Give a tourist a digital camera, and you can't even pause while he buys film. And the annoying couples who ask you to take their photo? No more happily sticking your finger over the lens or snapping a passing seagull; now you're told to wait for a retake as they check the picture for perfect composition and cheesy smile.
The problem reflects an attitude that impinges on us all: the camera-bearer's presumed right of unimpeded access. One minute you're peacefully enjoying a special view; the next, someone's edging you out of the way for a snap that will kill the experience.
Let's resist: reclaim the moment for now, and not someone else's future album. And maybe Tina Santos will be able to open her eyes again.
As the air traffic control system collapsed last Thursday, scores of delayed holidaymakers sunbathed on grass at Stansted. With talk of looming strikes and airline failures, let's hope this stoicism catches on - and hope for plenty of summer sun at UK airports.
This week's Dead Moth nomination for an underwhelming 'attraction' is from Shamus Williams in Cambridgeshire: a banana plantation in St Lucia, where tourists spent hours listening to a 'description of 19th-century British colonial machinery while we melted in the intense humidity'. Sounds idyllic. Keep them coming (escape@observer.co.uk).
· Gwyn Topham is travel editor of Guardian Unlimited
