By Los Angeles Times/Washington Post News Service
NEW YORK - Some might say Nathan Sawaya has achieved the American dream --- a prestigious career with a handsome salary and a life with plenty of perks.
But the 30-year-old corporate lawyer would trade it all for his dream, a dream that by most people's standards, sounds, well, a little silly.
Like Ponce de Leon desired the Fountain of Youth, Sawaya yearns for LEGOland. While the Fountain of Youth remains elusive, LEGOland theme park is real, sitting on a 128-acre plot 30 miles north of San Diego. There, LEGO diehards can roam a world of intricate statues and colorful figurines, all made from the tiny plastic blocks.
"It's a mecca," says Sawaya, who visited a couple of years ago. "The greatest thing I've ever seen." Yet, in his dreams, Sawaya does not simply tour the park, an experience accessible to anyone with $41.95 and some free time. No, Sawaya's fantasy is to spend his mornings, noons and nights behind the magic wall in a corner of LEGOland where six lucky men and women, known in the park as Master Builders, are paid to build. In case you misunderstand, here's their job description: Build --- with LEGOs.
"Forever, that's all I've wanted," says Sawaya.
The intricate masterpieces in his apartment show he is definitely qualified for the job. Among them, a life-size Han Solo, frozen in Carbonite, the Major League Baseball logo and the pedestal for the Statue of Liberty. All materialized in Sawaya's mind at one time or another, and now all exist as LEGO realities, thanks to an imaginative 30-year-old Manhattanite with a child's heart.
In one of the apartment's two bedrooms, Sawaya keeps enough LEGOs to fill the innards of a killer whale. In one corner, 18 bins hold thousands upon thousands of bricks, separated by color. In another, there's a bookshelf lined with tiny LEGO men and women. Perhaps the room's most striking feature (besides the imposing 3-by-6-foot Han Solo statue) is a startling self-portrait, made entirely of black-and-white bricks and complete with scars, dimples and shadows. The bedroom, known fondly as "The LEGO Room," is an anomaly in the cramped Big Apple, where extra space is generally not used to house childhood playthings, especially when there are no children in residence.
Three months ago, while scanning www.lugnet.com, a site for LEGO hobbyists, Sawaya came across something so remarkable that he, literally, gasped. LEGOland was holding a national contest to determine the country's best adult LEGO builder. The prize was a job at the theme park as the seventh Master Builder. For years, Sawaya had been checking LEGO job postings on a monthly basis, hoping for glory but eternally dispirited by openings only for accountants and maintenance men. Then, this.
"I immediately called my girlfriend and said, 'Here's my dream, and it can really come true!"' he says. "I felt like crying, because it was so absolutely unbelievable."
In his current position as a corporate lawyer, Sawaya takes home a six-figure salary. Should he become a Master Builder, he will start at $13 an hour. The financial details didn't really enter his mind back on Nov. 14, when he showed up at the Toys "R" Us in Times Square to take part in the first regional round of the competition. With 45 minutes on the clock, contestants were given a random theme -- SPACE! -- then asked to sort through 200 pieces and build. Sawaya constructed a rabbit in an astronaut's suit, which was praised by the judges for its originality. He advanced to the second round, recorded live on NBC's "Today" show on Nov. 21. This time the theme was Thanksgiving, and only two contestants, Sawaya and Jessica Frantz of Hellertown, Pa., appeared. Again in 45 minutes, Sawaya made a lifelike turkey, with a brown body, yellow beak and red tail. Frantz, whose turkey looked more like a rainbow-colored cow, was thumped.
For Sawaya, fantasy has become reality. He will fly to San Diego Friday and join 29 other finalists from around the country.
For the umpteenth time, he is asked whether he'd really consider leaving his serious adult life in New York.
"Let me put it this way," he says. "If I were offered the LEGO gig, I'd be making five times less than my current salary. I'd be leaving a city I love, and my girlfriend and I haven't even worked out the logistics. It'd be a whole new world to me, and it'd be scary," he says, pausing. "In other words, absolutely. In a millisecond."
Copyright 2004 Los Angeles Times/Washington Post News Services
