Just like a real hospital, you’re greeted by staff wearing scrubs and doctors coats and are asked to sign in as a visitor upon entry. The little girl behind me has to sign her Cabbage Patch Doll in too. Not just because they want to make sure nobody is stealing dolls, but because everyone who works here fully commits to their role as actual doctors and LPNs (Licenced Patch Nurses). Now might be a good time to mention I was probably the only 32-year-old child-free person on the property. Everyone else is a kid or related to one. But again, I’m here to find out what’s up with this tree that pushes baby dolls out of her vagina.
From what I understand, this hospital is ever-evolving, changing its displays quite regularly, but on my particular trip, each room of the house has a theme. There’s a school room which has a long yellow school bus with dolls handing out the window (dangerous!), a playground where they’re spinning in tire swings and hanging off monkey bars (also dangerous!), a classroom of them studying at little desks, and finally, my favorite, the cafeteria. A couple dozen dolls are seated at tables with beige trays full of garbage cafeteria food made of plastic in front of them—pizza, hot dogs, peas and carrots, even tiny milk cartons (and dog food grade meat I assume like real schools). There’s a room dedicated to Christmas where Santa is reading off his naughty or nice list to a bunch of eager dolls at his feet. There’s one room where they’re all on a boat for some reason, and another one where they’re hanging over New Orleans-style balconies and almost look like a bunch of wasted tourists throwing Mardi Gras beads to women showing their bingos. But none of these bizarre rooms prepare you for how very fucked up the one full of “preemies” (premature babies) is.
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