Another Brick in the Wall

One thing I can say for being in the US is that it does wonders for my body image. Australia is a fat country, and getting fatter, but these guys here in the US take it to a whole new level of obesity that can’t help but inspire those back home who aren’t sure whether to push for true, morbid obesity. Moderately chubby folk everywhere, I say one thing. Have a go. You can do better. I passed a guy on the way to the breakfast room who was kinda slim and we both paused, eying each other suspiciously, before heading inside.

After cramming down a light breakfast of waffles, bagels, cereal, cranberry juice, coffee, more coffee, and another bagel we piled the kids in the car and headed back up our old friend, I-5 North, to return to Carlsbad and hit Legoland. Few people know Lego is actually an ancient Indian word, apparently meaning ‘searing pain in foot when walking barefoot in darkness’. They could be wrong, however.

I was somewhat dismayed to find that I had to fork out $12 just to park in the carpark, even more so to discover I could spend even more and get ‘priority parking’ (whatever that is). In the US, the dollar is king and good people everywhere worship it.

On the upside, seeing as it’s still early in the year, Legoland isn’t yet up to full swing. Some of the water-based rides are still closed (as was the entire associated water park), however this also meant smaller lineups and a generally more positive experience. About the only disappointment I had was that the impending Star Wars Miniland exhibit isn’t due to open for another few weeks. I felt a great disturbance upon entering the gates, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in pain at stepping on small Danish bricks, and were suddenly silenced.

Patricks Rule of Travel #3 now arrives at your feet, begging, rolling over and playing dead for your amusement – “the longer the wait, the lamer the ride”. I never figured this would be the case – indeed, I assumed the opposite would be true, but at least from my experiences that day I can honestly state it’s what I found to be the case. We queued for 30 minutes at the safari ride, only to discover with dismay mid-trip that it was all going to be over in 90 seconds – less than the time it’d take you to walk from your hotel to a shuttle bus if you were going on a real African safari, I suspect. Similarly, the sky-cycle which I imagined based on a quick look at the map took in a full circumference of the park, had a 40 minute wait and ran for a bare two minutes – I started pedaling like a man possessed at first then when I realized I was on the return approach tried desperately to do nothing, not realizing that barely breathing on the pedals was apparently enough to propel you at warp speeds to the on/off point and dejectedly down the exit ramp.

I don’t want to seem like I’m ‘down’ on Legoland – quite the opposite, I thought it was outstanding, and if I lived in San Diego I’d get a yearly membership so the kids could flit in and out for a couple of hours as they pleased. As is typical of all American theme parks the organization and execution was flawless, and everywhere you looked were models done in genuine individual Lego pieces (no shortcuts) – for example, a full-sized Volvo XC90 Wagon involving over 200,000 bricks and five builders for two and a half months, weighing over 2000 pounds. When you think about the effort taken to build one car, then realize there are Lego replicas of Las Vegas, New York City, San Francisco and southern California, not to mention famous buildings from around the world (the Sydney Opera House and the Taj Mahal, for starters), you come to appreciate the sheer workforce involved in creating the displays.

I have a theory about this, however.

San Diego is only a few miles from the Mexican border, and I noticed a small tunnel hidden by shrubbery – real shrubbery, not Lego - in the side of one of the Carlsbad hills. I’m not saying this is absolutely the case but maybe, just possibly, the tunnel leads to a massive, poorly lit, underground workshop staffed by sweating Mexicans illegal immigrants, feverishly building scale replica buildings for their capitalist overlords, before putting them on conveyer belts and shipping them onsite. Someone’s got to build them. Think about it.

We left Legoland on the final siren (could have been a shift change – see above paragraph) passing through the inevitable giftshop (picked up a Lego Stormtrooper keyring and was well chuffed. Yes, I know, sad), then headed back to Carlsbad to do some outlet shopping once again, this time in earnest. I pretty well single-handedly burned my way through the better part of $400 at Gap (hi, Grace!) and poured some mildly disgruntled looking kids who were busting to play with their purchases back in the Escape, and we returned to San Diego, again missing the turn-off, but this time finding a short cut to the hotel.

I dropped the kids in their room and drove off pretty much straight away in search of food, doing the whole hunter gatherer thing. After a couple of rather exciting “I normally drive on the wrong side of the road” type moves, I finally made it to Food 4 Less and trudged uncertainly back and forth, collecting random supplies. About the only highlight of the experience was discovering that pregnancy test kits and condoms are both sold in little locked clear plastic sarcophaguses (sarcophagi?), presumably so them kids can’t go doin’ that sex stuff. I can’t imagine anything more embarrassing as a teenager than having to rock up to a counter with a plastic box to claim your condoms. Presumably they just take a chance and don’t bother. Anyway, you can’t get pregnant if it’s your first time. Or if you cross your fingers. Or something.  Still, I guess they’d have to confront their fears when they come to buy the pregnancy test.

Got back to the hotel proudly displaying my purchases, including Pizza Pockets (“5 for $5!” somehow should have told me they wouldn’t be great). Being an idiot of course, I didn’t realize this and bought them anyway, nuking them on a slightly optimistic hotel room microwave HIGH until they screamed and hissed on their cardboard crisping sheets. I was quite astounded – the sheets transform with a flick of the wrist into little pizza pocket holders. Unfortunately, that’s where the ‘surprise and delight’ ended. The package didn’t lie – the pockets did indeed contain bacon and cheese – however this is about all that can be said for them. I immediately renamed their ‘crisp and carry’ cookplates to ‘regurge and purge(tm)’, and Slim Pockets to Slim Pickins'. I should work in advertising. Certainly I sure as hell shouldn’t work as a travel writer.

Time to hit the hay, I think.