Dear Richmond,

I can’t believe you like Washington more than me.

You like the Smithsonian more than 3-D, black-light miniature golf? Stuffed suits more than itty-bitty bikinis? Richmond, that hurts.

You go on and on about the Outer Banks, but let’s face it. Seven days staring at sand dunes is boring. Wouldn’t you rather be sucking down oysters at Harpoon Larry’s? You know you want an “I Don’t Get Drunk, I Get Awesome” T-shirt. And I haven’t had a single shark attack since September.

So come on down and see me this summer. OK, Richmond? Please?

Love,

Virginia Beach