Some people like pineapple on pizza. Some people think a hot dog is a sandwich. But my controversial-yet-correct opinion, friends, is that Baby Park is the best damn Mario Kart track, and if you want to fight me on that, you can find me at the local Pizza Hut having a Hawaiian and being great at life.
You might think that the best test of kart-based skill is one of the ten thousand tedious Rainbow Road tracks, but you are wrong. You are so wrong that when I am inevitably a world leader, under the new system of video-game-opinion-based merit that we will construct after the fall of capitalism, I will build a statue of you so that children may point and laugh at how wrong you were. History books will bear photos of you, accompanied by the caption "this idiot human thought that two-hour-long races are fun."
(Want to agree—or fight for the honor and glory of YOUR favorite Mario Kart track? Take it to the forums!)
Baby Park is the one true track, my friends. It has everything you need: Intensity, chaos, hairpin turns. If you can't drift, get out of my life, I scream as I round that first corner, throwing green shells like confetti, making it rain pain. Those eight tiny laps will test your friendships, your relationships, your ability to come up with incredible expletives on-the-go.
No one is safe in Baby Park. The track is so small, so dense, that even a Blue Shell will take out half the racers. Baby Park is the perfect microcosm of equality. Here in Baby Park, the mighty will fall, the weak will rise, and we are all locked in an eight-lap battle to survive, to succeed, to kill and to conquer.
But Moo Moo Meadows is pretty good, too. I like the big cows.