Culture No. 10

Once upon a time, Little Sarah Bug had a subscription to Nickelodeon Magazine. At the time it was way cool, but now I realize that the fact I even remember this now-defunct publication just makes me way old. (I also subscribed to Disney Adventures, another magazine that dates me, albeit not as bad since apparently it was published up till 2007. My first issue had M.C. Hammer and Darkwing Duck on the cover. Did I know who M.C. was? No. Irrelevant. I was too cool for school.) Nickelodeon Magazine was where I first heard about the Mall of America, a mythical Minnesotan land of retail that was so big it had an amusement park in the center of it, complete with roller coasters and a log flume. Soon afterwards, family friends sent me an oversized postcard from the Mall's oversized Lego store. (At this point in time, all allowance money went towards my next Lego set.) I was ten and enchanted. This I had to see.

Fast-forward seventeen years. I am now slightly larger (vertically) and no longer dream about living in Orlando so I can try out for Legends of the Hidden Temple. (I’ve since met someone who does live there and apparently it’s not all pixie dust and butterbeer. I’ve also discovered I hate heat and air conditioning – not a good mix if you live in Florida.) My Legos live in a box in my parents' basement. I’ve already been to Minneapolis once, but skipped the Mall in favor of more cultural pursuits. (This is what happens when you get old. Art is more exciting than fun.) However, when my one-and-only Minneapolin (Minneapolisian? Minneapo?) friend decided to go and get married, it was the perfect excuse to travel west once more to see her, her beautiful wedding, and, of course, the retail capital of my elementary school dreams.

It was kind of a whirlwind weekend. C.’s wedding was Saturday morning, but we were also going to my cousins’ graduation party on Sunday night. These two events were approximately 1,350 miles apart and nowhere near Pennsylvania to boot. But we made it work. Bert and I drove up to Connecticut Thursday night, flew out of Bradley Friday morning, and arrived in Minneapolis Friday afternoon. We checked into our hotel, then immediately set off for the Mall. I was so excited I felt like singing the “Happy World Land” song:

We parked. Entered the mall. And…?!?! It is a big mall. With about ten Starbucks. And no Anthro.

Thankfully, there were also several Caribou’s. Best. Coffee. Ever.

I wouldn’t say that I was completely disappointed in the Mall. (Except for the missing Anthro. I was disappointed about that.) I’ve known from experience that my ten year-old memories are neither precise, grounded, nor entirely accurate. When it came to the amusement park, I prepared myself for something small, cute, and marketed towards a much younger demographic. And it was. It was everything twenty-seven year-old Sarah thought it would be. Unfortunately.

I think I was more disappointed that I couldn’t enjoy it the way I once could. The SpongeBob SquarePants Rock Bottom Plunge wasn’t scary enough. (Six year-old Sarah was scared on Disney's "Peter Pan's Flight.") I was too tall for the Reptarmobiles. (Although Little Sarah was probably too tall as well.) It was just...you know...small. Cute. Geared towards someone who feels some sort of connection with Dora and Diego. (In my day, we didn't have to learn when we watched cartoons. We vegged.) I was just amazed they even remembered who Reptar was. Is Rugrats on reruns and no one told the girl without cable? Not fair. (It is on Netflix though. I know because I've watched it. :)

Fun Fact: Little Sarah was kicked out of the McDonald’s ball pit circa age five. She is still not over it.

However, any disappointment on my behalf was more than made up for by Bert's reaction to the Lego store: pure, unadulterated, unabashed, ten year-old boy excitement. (Is there anything else like it?) I forgot how much he loves Legos. I forgot how much I love Legos. There are more photos on my camera of that store than of any other event this weekend. Bert took photos of everything. From all levels. And all angles. And you know what? I love it. Amusement park rides may get small and lame, but Legos, man, they don't change. And for that, the old person in me is very, very grateful.

Reconnecting with my forgotten past. And wondering why I never had cool, lime green Legos.