I told Ms. Dearing that genetic hybrids were an unnecessary expense AND a potential liability. Multiple times. I even showed her the research that clearly demonstrated guests preferred to Ooh (23%) and Aah (19%) over The Running (17%) and The Screaming (only 9%!).
As acting head of Cretaceous Entertainment until they could locate the rest of my boss, I knew all we needed to boost attendance was some good old-fashioned razzle-dazzle. A little showmanship. I mean, we had all the creative opportunities of a major theme park AND a major zoo. Win-win. Unfortunately, my first idea - "a carnivorous comedic tribute to the Silver Screen" - was not very well-received by Dearing, or, if Judy in HR and her "performance review" are to be believed, the suits at Masrani.
Undaunted, I proposed a "10th Amberversary Celebration", the centerpiece of which was to be a theatrical spectacular honoring John Hammond, the man who started it all when he came down from Scotland with just "A Circus and Some Fleas" (also the title of the opening song). AMBER DREAMS was a "cirque du saur spectacular 65 million years in the making," a voyage of discovery into the realms of color, sound, and motion, where a cast of terrible lizards fall head-over-claws for an adorable lil Mesozoic mosquito named Amber who dreams of one day becoming a dinosaur.
Join a young dreamer named Amber as she digs into the past to find the dinosaur inside her in a mesmerizing world of adventure and wonder. This unique theatrical animal spectacular features soaring music, majestic dinosaurs, and nimble acrobats, all paying homage to John Hammond's incredible dream of man and dinosaur walking on the Earth together, hand-in-claw. Let Amber take you on a journey of discovery 65 million years in the making.
I had to keep the whole thing secret from Dearing, of course, but I knew the ruggedly handsome Owen Grady would be thrilled to see how I was taking his raptor behavioral techniques to their logical next level. "They're thinking 'I gotta eat, I gotta hunt...I gotta DANCE!'" is how he would always put it, I think. Anyways, brought a bottle of my best West Indian Lilac wine to O.G.'s rustic little bachelor paddock and graciously invited him to my CLOSED tech rehearsal (you're welcome). Well, guess who stormed off on his big motorcycle with his quarter of clever girls and then straight-up tattled to Claire?
BOOM! Next thing I know, I'm on the first ferry back to the mainland. Goodbye, Isla Nublar, goodbye dental plan! No severance either for this Imagisaur, unless you count MY INDEX AND RING FINGERS (Blue, you know what you did). Apparently, cooking up some kind of unholy Frankendino is totes cool, but you put ONE raptor on a jet ski and it's "a perversion of everything I've dedicated my life to" (yeah well, so's your vest).
Anyway, it's a great park, and I do wish them all the best. And who knows, maybe they'll reconsider the show for the 15th Amberversary. They say good ideas never really die at Imagisauring, they just get encased in amber and buried in the earth for millions of years.
Anyway, two weeks at Westworld is what the doctor ordered for this Creative Diraptor (can't say I'll miss the puns...). And if my resume happens to slip under Robert Ford's door while I'm there, well, these things happen.
I guess if I had any regrets, it's that I'll never know what a T-Rex looks like doing jazz hands. And that I never got to play Owen the show's stirring final number, "Life Finds a Way."