The song, you are soon to realise, is an omen, as your coupon obliges you to purchase tickets to the aquarium. Why is there an aquarium here? You wonder it quietly, but do not voice the thought aloud, struck temporarily mute by the loss of two hundred and forty dollars.
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Aeons after you first encountered the SCUBA DUCK, you pass beneath the mouth of LEGOLAND. Almost instantly, you encounter what can only be an ancient, sacrificial bullock, preserved for all eternity in LEGO at his final moment of innocence.pic.twitter.com/XbyYJk142j
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You come to a ride in Ninjago Land. The line is packed to capacity. You go to join, but are waved away: the ride is no longer running. You look at the line, at the yellow-skinned unbeing on your mortal periphery, and step away.
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You pass through Mini Land, confronted by a tiny White House whose LEGO press corps waits to greet the LEGO President at his LEGO helicopter. As you watch, the LEGO press corps shrinks and wavers, individual figures winking out of existence. The air smells of fire and Cheetohs.
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Nearby, in Mini Star Wars, a crumpled AT-AT sprawls on LEGO sand like a dehydrated spaniel. “Mood,” you whisper hoarsely. The two suns are so hot, so very hot. Is there no water here?pic.twitter.com/efoMPm3Eli
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In line for food, you scratch at a yellowing rash on your knee, absently wondering at its newness. Where did it come from? As you swallow a mouthful of LEGO sandwich, your gaze is met by an ominous sign. You wonder what it means, and yet hope, slightly hysterically, never to knowpic.twitter.com/035ZD0uJPU
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You queue for a ride on a pirate ship. From somewhere off to your right, the song starts again: BABY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO. You look for the child responsible, but none of them are singing it. All of them are singing it. The line lasts 40 minutes.
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By the fourth LEGO World, your yellow rash has spread from knee to thigh. Your skin is changing colour. Your feet ache. Your cracked lips shape the syllables of Baby Shark, but do not yet give them utterance.
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At the fairy tale boat ride, the waters churn with ominous noise. The LEGO animatronic figures stare at you as they move in stutters syncopation, their eyes inescapable. You realise, you do not recognise all these fairy tale figures. The rash has moved to your arm. You scratch.
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As you pass through the gift shop, the song chases you a third time: BABY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO. You remember the aquarium and flee towards it. Was walking always this hard?
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Inside the aquarium, the air is cool on your fevered skin. Moving with new urgency, you push your way to a tank where - finally, blessedly - you encounter sharks. You stare at them, smooth and whole. There are stairs beside the tank, and LEGO statues within. You climb the stairs.
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As you step into the open mouth of the shark tank, you have just enough time to see your complete transformation reflected in the glass - smooth skin, yellow, a plastic smile and cup-clawed hands - before you sink down, down, down.
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Baby sharks greet you, and it seems unnecessary even as it feels like coming home. Haven’t you always been here, still and smiling within their waters? Your rash is gone. The pain is gone. There is only the water, and sharks, and the jaundiced glow of Truth. Welcome to LEGOLAND.
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