BEST Ikea Trip EVER

I had already danced with the Swedish Devil once in 2006 and lived to tell the tale… so this weekend, I decided try my luck for a second time and tangoed my way back into the hell that is Ikea. For those of you who aren't in major metropolitan areas with Ikea's you are probably thinking…okay, Kimmmm is being a little bit melodramatic…. Ikea seems like it is a place with a variety of trendy and inexpensive furniture.

This of course is true I am being a bit melodramatic and Ikea is a place with trendy and inexpensive furniture. It is also a place that will cause you to swear and bleed. My trip to Ikea this weekend wasn't actually that bad, but for the sake of having an entertaining blog, I am going to share a few observations from the trip to Ikea that Ph, Emmmm, Sheesh, and I took a few weeks ago and some general observations.

The Store. We arrived at Ikea on Saturday morning. Although the stores are huge and located near highways, so that everyone can see the eyesore that is the blue and yellow building for miles away, we managed to miss the exit and had to turn around. The car was parked approximately 3 miles from the actual entrance. After making it to the store, the store itself is a jumbling confusing maze that was put together by Swede's who were obviously under the influence of some illegal narcotics. Time and space cease to exist, as we wormed our way around couches, kitchens, through bedrooms, and of course, there is the children's section (shudder). Philli picked up a hippo, but not in the childrens section. We held hands and ran through that.

The Products. Now, I am all for celebrating all cultures equally, but I would think that the Swedes would have thought to do some basic translation of product names before entering the US market. I don't want to be culturally insensitive here or anything, but from a practical standpoint, I'm pretty sure that the average American's command of Swedish is not such that they are able to distinguish the difference between a Gorm, Flangby, and Rimfrost.

The Warehouse. (This is where the swearing begins) After making our way through the store and looking at approximately one billion different housewares, we were mercifully released into a warehouse, where you we to go and pick up your own products to bring them to the register. The College Park Ikea holds a special place in my heart for this section of the trip, because the tags that are on the products with the warehouse locations, don't exactly match the "locations" of these products in the warehouse. Oh, those Swedes are some Merry Pranksters*. Of course, since you don't know the actual product names, it's nearly impossible to locate that bookshelf or bed that you wanted. By this time, you've been traipsing around the store for 3 hours with the rest of humanity so you are exhausted anyways. Finally, you find your product and realize that although your new bookshelf is in a flat deceptively light looking box, it actually weighs about 200 pounds. I picked up a stuffed giraffe.

*bonus points if you get the literary reference.

The Registers. This is the main reason Ikea is hell. I don't want to talk about it. It wasn't bad when we went, but I've been in Ikea before when it's been ugly and it's Not a Good Thing.

The Parking Lot. (This is where the swearing really picks up) This is where the real fun that is Ikea starts. I had my newly purchased Flibba, Lyckeby, and Glimmas, and was ready to head home, when I came to the sad realization that my 99 Chevy Caviler was probably not designed haul a 200 pound box of bookcase anywhere, even back in November of 1999 when it still had pickup.

Home. (This is where you swear some more) Finally, after a confusing, exhausting, and annoying detour, we arrived at our new apartment and began to unload the car. At this point, the trip had been going on for approximately five hours, and we were exhausted and starving and it didn't help that no one could remember what the Probus was, why it had been purchased at all, and why the box would be so damn heavy.

Assembly. (This is where you swear AND bleed) Beyond just saving the expenses associated with any semblance customer service, you get to experience the joy of furniture assembly using only a small thumb wrench that was not designed for the average adults sized hand. The instruction sheets feature smiling androgynous Swedes assembling furniture in the way that you too would assemble furniture if you were a smiling androgynous Swede. The instruction sheets also contain helpful graphical warnings such as a picture of a frowning Swede hitting his head with a hammer with a big X through it. (You don't even have to know what a Atlant is to get that you are supposed to hit your head with a hammer from this one). Anyway, every piece of Ikea furniture I've ever purchased has drawn blood, either my own, or the blood of the unwitting friends who volunteered to help me assemble it. Sometimes, it does make me want to hit my head with a hammer, but after a careful read of the instruction sheet, I know that this is not the correct thing to do. (You are supposed to use only a thumb wrench).

I'm pretty sure the instruction sheet above is saying not to drop your furniture because it will break.

After passing through the purgatory that is the store and warehouse, and finally descending into the depths of bloody furniture assembly hell, I have found myself the proud owner of a really cool Markor. I know how this whole thing will go…one thing will lead to another, a few years pass, a new apartment will inevitably come, and I'll foolishly decide that I need to pick up some new odds and ends and repeat the whole cycle again.