This post has nothing to do with anything really, other than the regrettable fact that I could not sleep AGAIN last night and was on the Ikea website, among other, ahem, less reputable sites. Since I've moved into a studio apartment and have become obsessed with buying more crap to organize my smaller collection of crap, I've been dabbling in late-night Ikea porn. Don't worry, I clear my internet history.
I have solid evidence that the entire... experience... of Ikea is the epitome of slack-jawed American consumerism, despite its sleeker packaging and suspiciously socialist tinge.
First of all, the absolute furious clusterfuck existent in the parking lot, particularly on Sunday afternoons in September, is a shining example of North American laziness, overcrowding, and downright competition regarding parking spaces.
Secondly, Ikea has trampled the long-standing Target-$60-Rule. Perhaps you're not aware that was actually a tariff signed into legislation by the FCC and Congress, but you'll nod with recognition, based solely on the bill's title. No American adult can leave Target without purchasing a minimum of $60 USD retail value goods (90% disposable, 10% durable). Ikea laughs derisively: the current average bill of an average Ikea shopping outing tops well over $150 USD, "as is" furniture non-withstanding. Help the economy! Just like Georgie told us to!
Third, Ikea recognized the absolute house-of-cards willpower the average American has against a cafeteria promising $6 plates of "meat"balls and all-you-can-swill, HFCS-loaded Lingonberry "juice". Let's face it. We all go to Ikea with secret hopes that we'll be hungry, and that our shopping companion is starving / is hungover / has PMS / has no taste buds / is brain dead and has not short term memory enough to agree to venture to the Ikea cafeteria to indulge in fast food dressed up as--I'm not sure--healthier? tastier? chic-er? than Burger King, Arbys, or Au Bon Pain.
Since you're going to do it anyway, here's a quick guide to about the most or least adventageous time(s) to submit to your Dirty Ikea Food Craving:
Pre-shopping. This method is sure to strip all of your dignity and energy, no matter if you'd run a 10K beforehand and done some volunteer work for homeless children. You trot in, fresh from dodging cars in aforementioned clusterfuck parking lot. Smelling cinnamon rolls and gliding up the escalator, you think, "Wow, what a great way to start a day of hell—inhaling some tasteless food I neither need nor really want." After eating, you have no defenses to the lure of Swedish-designed plastic housewares. I pity you. However, if your "quick trip" (you are now shuffling along like a stoned zombie) stretches into Eternal Afternoon, you do have the comfort of knowing that there are many, many bathrooms for your now-certain use. If only you could find your way to the ground floor.
Mid-Shopping. This method is sure to cause arguments, fistfights, catfights, divorce, and high-intensity irritation. It's related to the sense of failure one has when they're almost ready to leave (and go pluck their 130-lb dresser box from ready-to-assemble) and are lured into the cafeteria. "Perhaps, perhaps I'll just grab a coffee. And maybe a slice of Alondkonnenen Caken. And some chicken strips, I'm trying to eat more protein." I pity you. After you load your car, slowed and sedated by lunch, you'll have to double back to the bathrooms.
Post-Shopping. This method may prove to be the least painful overall, and may help numb the pain you just experienced at the checkout from the sans-lube wallet-raping you just enjoyed. At this point, what the hell. Order one of everything. Shit, order two. Get the gravy. Extra gravy. However, be warned that this method usually entails a very, very anxious drive home with you praying you can make it to your bathroom "in time".
Not a Method But Worth A Mention. As a parting shot, Ikea offers the 50-cent Ikea Farewell Hot Dog. Like a stealth missile from Sweden, it slides directly into you mouth, gone before you even fumble for keys while wheeling your crap around in circles in parking garage. It's a dirty trick. I pity you.
Bon Appetit!
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