Hej Yourself, Ikea.

Yesterday Sam and I went to Ikea.

Access to the New Haven version of the behemoth is through the door marked Enter Here, leading to a drab vestibule with a one-way escalator to the Showroom Level. Along with the other lemmings, lemming-like, we got on.

Our mission had a specific focus, namely dishes, glasses, and cutlery, but first, we were compelled by the totalitarian floor plan to pass through a series of display kitchens followed by living room, bedroom, and bathroom analogs, all of which feature Ikea’s limited lifespan furnishings with names like Ektorp and Tokabo.  

A reasonable fear of death by incidental trampling subdued us into moving in a single stream, not unlike Swedish meatballs making their way through the digestive system.  

What can I say? As a retail model, this is diabolical and effective. Suddenly, in addition to the tableware we’d come in search of, Sam and I fell under the spell of the Malm four drawer dresser, a bargain at $199.00. We were obsessed.

Toward the end of our tour we picked up an impulse grandkid gift, and were emptied out to a mega-popular-Disneyworld-ride-length checkout line. Sam announced he was not waiting. Abandoning the gift, we sidestepped our way past a security guard and into the sweet freedom of the packed parking lot.

Today we go to the external Ikea pickup for our place setting friends: Vardagen, Doftsam, and Fargklar. I honestly don’t think I could go inside the store again, now or perhaps ever, but I’m glad we did yesterday. Now I have a pretty clear understanding of purgatory. Also, since we decided against the seductive Malm and DIY assembly, we were able to avoid hell.