Ikea is not always a happy place.
look, I grew up going to Ikea. When I was a little kid, pretty much my favorite thing to do was go to Ikea, jump on the beds (until my mom caught me) and eat their pancake breakfast.
|from timesunion.com In case you don't know what IKEA looks like.|
And now that I'm older, Ikea has served me well as a place to get relatively inexpensive furniture on a college and post-college budget.
But the thing is, normally I would go and visit Ikea during some pretty specific hours. . . like the morning. Or the weekends. Because I would go with my mom! Or I was in school.
Now, all of sudden, my week is filled with work and my weekends are filled with far-in-advance-not-work plans. So the only time to head to Ikea (I need a new bookshelf) was on Monday night.
Ikea, happy place, right? Filled with laughing children frolicking over couches, happy families picking out a new baby's crib, adorable couples figuring out how to set up their first kitchen. . .
On Monday nights, Ikea is empty. All of the furnitures seems to come just a little bit a live because they don't have to pretend to be inanimate because people are around anymore. You round the corner and instinctively cover your head, just in case some floor lamp might be jumping out to scare you.
You call "hello?" through the maze of the show room floor, and can't hear anyone. You wonder if maybe the store is closed, and you're locked in there, and the only thing you want to do is escape so you start to run towards the exit but it's Ikea! The labyrinth layout keeps you running in endless circles in the middle of the store, and you never will escape until you have bought ever bookshelf, mirror, and side table in the place!
I managed to pull it together long enough to get the measurements of the bookshelf I was looking at, and then escaped by flipping over a few desks and somersaulting across a large stack of area rugs.
So -- beware next time you head to Ikea on a Monday night. It gets dangerous in there. Don't say I didn't warn you.