#2. Miami's City of Tomorrow
Throughout, oh, most of the 20th century, legions of Miami developers have pitched a science, trade, and culture park known as Interama, which is short for "Inter-American Cultural and Trade Center." Interama was designed to offer visitors all the space-age sights and amenities of a World's Fair, with the sexy thrills of some beach blanket bingo a stone's throw away.
"It's Miami. We paid the art guy in coke."
This futuristic metropolis came complete with elevated aerial capsules and a thousand-foot tower accessible only by underwater conveyor-belt tubes. The only thing this spectacle was missing was a talking dog incomprehensibly barking, "RELCOME ROO RINTERAMA."
Miami New Times
WARNING: Shark-Related Tunnel Collapse May Occur
The closest Interama came to reality was in the '60s. The park was supposed to open in 1968, but the project stalled out over the years. It flat-lined so hard that Florida International University bought up a chunk of the land Interama was supposed to sit on. Another portion of the Interama acreage was turned into a dumping ground for toxic and medical waste.
Well, look on the bright side -- when you roll around in a random pile of hazardous chemicals and the fluids of strangers, you'll probably see visions of the future, and there's no ticket price! (And if someone is charging you admission, then you're doing it wrong.)
#1. The $500 Million Argo Theme Park
Remember Argo, the movie that won the Oscar for Best Picture of 2012? Well, the film -- which was about a real CIA mission to rescue U.S. embassy workers trapped in Iran in 1980 -- left out one completely insane detail. The fake science fiction movie that the CIA used as a cover to sneak into Tehran was also a proposal for a tripped-out theme park.
In the late 1970s, Hollywood writer Barry Ira Geller penned a screenplay adaptation of Roger Zelazny's acclaimed 1967 science fiction novel, Lord of Light. For those of you who have never read Lord of Light, it is -- in a nutshell -- about human astronauts in the far future who use mad technology to transform into Hindu and Buddhist deities. And sweet balls, this was to be the focus of a half-billion-dollar theme park.
Brooklyn Film Networks
We were so looking forward to the Spinning Robo-Vishnus.
This was $500,000,000 in 1979 money, mind you. Emboldened by the runaway success of Star Wars, Geller dreamed big for his adaptation of Lord of Light. Along with the movie, he imagined building an entire amusement park in Aurora, Colorado, using concept art by legendary comic book artist Jack Kirby, who basically invented the X-Men, the Fantastic Four, and the Avengers.
This blissfully deranged park, which was dubbed "Science Fiction Land," was to sport Maglev trains, a 38-story Ferris wheel, and techno-Hindu architecture that would've made Six Flags Dubailand look boring. All of it was to be encased in a Buckminster Fuller dome half a mile high:
Yep, that last one's a penis.
Despite holding a flashy kickoff conference in Denver -- complete with "futuristic clowns" in "green fright wigs" -- brute economic forces and corrupt and bankrupt project funders scuttled Science Fiction Land before reality could dash in and scream, with tears streaming down its face, "What the FUCK are you guys thinking?"
In the end, Geller's script and Kirby's concept art were reused (or as Geller notes, stolen) by the CIA, as a front to rescue the embassy staff, and by Ben Affleck, as a means to make everyone forget his Hollywood career between Good Will Hunting and The Town.
For more amazingness we almost got, check out 5 Superhero Movies You Won't Believe Almost Got Made and 3 Insane Spider-Man Movies You Won't Believe Almost Got Made.
If you're pressed for time and just looking for a quick fix, then check out 4 Reasons You'd Never Use Microsoft's New Gaming Device.