When I was 15 I worked at Marine World, Africa USA for a summer. It was right next to my town (Foster City), and we could ride our bikes there. A lot of kids from my safe, civilized town did the same. The next year it moved to Vallejo. I went once because I had a free ticket. It was staffed solely by locals: obstinate, hostile ghetto youth who would not do their jobs. The place smelled like vomit. It was dirty.
It is a metaphor for our entire culture: It used to be run correctly. Now it is run like the DMV in Uganda.