Stockholm Syndrome

IKEA, or Inexhaustible Kaleidoscopic Experience, Assuredly: The newest IKEA store in the country just opened in the Metropolitan Detroit area almost a week ag, and people went ape shit! What the Hell! People actually camped outside the store for days in order to get inside when they first opened. You would think that these people had never seen a piece of furniture before in their lives. I mean this is a home furnishings store, not a Pink Floyd reunion tour.

So a friend called me yesterday. She had an idea, how 'bout IKEA. She didn't really say that, because I would have had to slap her. She just invited me to go to IKEA. Why not! I have to see this materialistic Mecca, this Swedish sanctuary, for myself. Perhaps they even sell cheap boxes of alliteration for use in future blogs... but I digress.

Driving the 45 minutes to get to the IKEA, I felt a little silly. I'm not a big shopper, and I really hate driving, and this combines the two. However, I remind myself that this is really for the experience, and to hang out with my friend. Also, at least I wasn't one of those frickin' morons who painted their faces and stood outside the building chanting and willing the doors to open.

I had no preconceived notions of what IKEA was like. All I knew is that it would be a big, blue and yellow building, and sold Swedish meatballs. That's it. I figured it'd be a cinch to find and didn't really need exact directions. I got off the freeway and got a smidgeon lost. Maybe about five minutes out of my way. I realized I had turned left instead of right, turned around and eventually found it. I felt incredibly stupid. IKEA is fucking HUGE. How could I have missed it?

I drove into the 10,000 space parking lot and got a spot maybe ten aisles away from the door. Not too bad, but mind you, this is about 9:15AM, 45 minutes before the store opens. Walking up, there's a barbecue with a chef grilling hot dogs, a dj mixing tunes, a clown. Calmly, I hope to myself that this is only due to the recent opening. Otherwise, IKEA, you're messed up. You're a store, not a carnival..

Until you enter. One of about ten employees wants to give me a map. "I've never been to an IKEA before. Do I really need a map?" I said. She smiled, and quietly said, "Here you go." while handing me the map. Her simple answer was yet to be affirmed.

I head upstairs to the restaurant. Now that's weird in an of itself. A furniture store with a restaurant. Is this because there's only like 7 IKEA in the country and these brain cases drive from states away and are then starved? Not sure.

Meet my friends, they're finishing breakfast; so then we get up to stand in line to enter. It is a carnival! Or more likely Cedar Point. Or even worse.... Disneyland. Good god! There's about a hundred thousand people lined up to get in at every conceivable orifice of the store. Every vantage point is taken, because you know that they may just run out of that plastic froggy baby bowl set, or the metal tea candle holder. They've got a million of every item people, they're not running out any time soon. Except of bags...

The gates open, and we're off... me walking calmly, all others scrambling to get a big floppy IKEA bag like it was filled with smack and they needed a fix. All IKEA really needs is some sort of large mascot walking around and they've got it all. I mean people brought their kids in droves. They were all hopped up on lingonberries and I don't even know what the fuck a lingonberry is?!? And why is everything flat! And just shut up right now, if you are going to explain the same way they do with the "packaging" and the "less expensive" and the "passing the savings on".

And that place is gigantic! Map... good idea. Did I still get lost? You bet your ass I did. Lost in the middle of a half million people, and still slightly frightened. I was worried that if I collapsed of exhaustion someone would stuff me in one of those floppy, yellow bags and buy me because, well because they were just buying everything in sight anyway. I got tired and thought I would set up camp somewhere, and then saw the "living in 297 sq. ft" pavillion, that shows you how your life would just be a little less crappy with IKEA furnishings in it if you were cramped into a room the size of a Honda Civic. It made me never to want to live in Sweden, if this is how they live.

And what is with the names of everything? Every item has some sort of weird, Swedish, gibberish name. It's as if the designers were on acid when they named them. "I'm looking for your pillows?" "Oh, you mean our Molmo? They're right over there between the Soorge and Pon. If you hit the Flagenborgdin, you've gone too far." "Thank you???"

One mention must be made of the bad ass shopping carts though. Four-wheel, independent suspension, baby! Those suckers could turn on a frickin' dime. Very cool, until I saw three miles of them stretching out in front of me next to the stairs. Then I became overwhelmed.

Overall, it was as surreal of an experience. As if Dali himself had built the store. After buying things that I had no idea I actually needed, including a jar of lingonberry preserves (still don't know what it is) I finally escaped. Unlike many others, I may return under my own free will in the future. However, I fear that many of the customers certainly have been mentally taken hostage with a scary sense of brand loyalty. In other words... Stockholm Syndrome. Ha, see... because IKEA is based out of Sweden, and Stockholm is a city... Good God get a globe!