Orlampaland

Every place worth remembering has a mascot. Not always official, not always sanctioned; sometimes it’s a street mural, sometimes it’s a radio DJ, sometimes it’s a character the community makes up just because it feels right.

For Orlampaland, that character waddled in without warning. A drake. A duck. A bird with too much confidence and not enough reason for it. His name? Hey.

Why Hey? Because it’s the simplest word in the English language that still gets your attention. You shout it to stop a kid from running into traffic. You whisper it when you’re trying to catch someone’s eye across the room. You type it at the beginning of an email when you don’t know how formal to be. Hey works everywhere. And now it belongs to a duck.

Hey is the drake who struts through parking lots like they were catwalks. He doesn’t wait for permission to cross the street. He doesn’t care about your HOA rules or your pond’s “no swimming” sign. Hey just is. And that’s exactly what Orlampaland needs; a reminder that confidence doesn’t have to make sense to be real.

If Orlampaland is an idea, then Hey is its attitude. Bold, unbothered, maybe a little absurd. A drake who doesn’t fly south for the winter because, honestly, Florida is already south enough.

So when you see the logo, the sticker, or the t-shirt with a duck staring you down, remember: it’s not just a bird. It’s a reminder. To say hey. To be hey. To walk like you own the pond even if the pond is just a puddle in the Publix parking lot.