I remember when it first opened. A theme park within walking distance of my house was, in my 8 eight year old mind, right up there with the birth of Christ. Legoland was my paradise, a place of large plastic cubes in primary colors as far as the eye could see. My parents took my sister and I to the park the very first day the doors opened. Naturally, my parent’s decision to fight the crowds on that fateful day was only the result of my incessant whining about getting to ride the Dragon Rollercoaster, or the Lego Dragon Super Duper Monster Ride of Doom Because My Sister Is Too Short to Ride It Ride, as I called it.
Our day at Legoland was filled with attraction after attraction and sugary treat after sugary treat. On the last leg of our journey, we entered the Imagination Zone, where kids could build Lego creations to their hearts content. As a kid of 8, I essentially poured my heart and soul into creating a plastic masterpiece that could rival the Mona Lisa. When I was finished, the product resembled a blue square building with a few green blocks on top because I had used all the blue ones towards the end of the project. I was Michelangelo and the blue mass my Sistine Chapel. It was a magnificent day at Legoland.
Over the next five years, my family frequented Legoland many times, always enjoying the Imagination Zone immensely. Sadly, just after my 13th birthday, my family moved across the country and Legoland was no longer a fixture in my life. Two years later, when I was 15, my family finally made a trip back to Legoland. This time, I was greatly displeased to learn the Imagination Zone had been replaced by DinoTopia Cruise, or Stupid Dinosaur Boat Ride That Replaced The Greatest Thing In The World Ride, as I called it.
However, I unfailingly believe in Legoland. In all of its lego-y glory, Legoland showed me that sometimes the most important thing I can use is my imganationlif…and perhaps a few blue rectangles.
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