The Holy Land of Furniture

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Friday, March 12: Mom, aka Grandmaster Decorator, arrived at 8am.

A fury of unpacking ensued. We were like machines -- boxes and newspaper and bubble wrap were flying about as dishes, clothing, books and everything else were being thrown into place.

At noon we stopped and looked around. It was like a U-Haul war-zone, but things were almost completely unpacked.

"It's time to shop," said Grandmaster Decorator Mom. We nodded.

We decided to go to Ikea, which is Swedish for "The Holy Land of Furniture." My mom had never heard of Ikea before, and none of us had ever been there. The wife and I had only ever heard about the wonders of Ikea. So we made the drive down to College Park, teaching my mom the correct way to pronounce 'Ikea' and listening to me talk to no one in particular about "Well, let's see if those crazy Swedes can dazzle us."

It's hard to miss an Ikea, as it is a huge display of Swedish nationalism. The gigantic store is painted screaming blue, with yellow stripes and "Ikea" in huge yellow letters. There are rows of flagpoles with the Swedish flag (the old yellow n blue) waving proudly. When we arrived at Ick-ee-ay ("No, mom, it's Eye-keee-uh"), we were amazed by the grand splendor one could make a furniture store into.

"Those crazy Swedes, they sure know how to make an entrance," I said. Amy and my mom looked at each in confusion.

We entered Itch-a-ay ("No, mom, it's Eye-kee-uh") and were instantly awed. Upstairs was the showroom part, where they had every piece of furniture and appliance they sold set up like they could be in your very own home. We had to get a map to direct us through the maze of Swedish furniture.

Not only is the furniture at Eee-kay-ah (“No, mom it’s Eye-kee-uh, but you’re getting closer”) really cool and good quality, it’s also all really cheap.

“These crazy Swedes!” I yelled triumphantly as I plopped down in the coolest couch ever. “They know meatballs and furniture so well!”

My mom was amazed at the prices, Amy was testing out chairs, and I was gazing lovingly at the recliners.

Four hours later, we were still in the endless showroom area, tired, eyes glazed, and dehydrated.
“Damn the Swedes for not having drinking water stations set up in this place!” I yelled, shaking my fist from the comfort of the Ikea (“Yes, mom, that’s how you say it!”) ergonomic bounce recliner.

We had looked at more dining room sets, chairs, couches, desks, shelves, tables, and lights than one should safely see during a day. It was time to go downstairs to the “Self-Service Furniture” area to pick up what we wanted.

With the help of flares and the Ikea showroom map (“Those crazy Swedes and their orienteering!” I yelled. “Shut up!” yelled my mom and Amy), we finally made it out of the showroom section and into self-serve.

Huge rows of furniture towered over us. And nothing we wanted was in stock. We had wandered aimlessly about the Swedish furniture jungle for four hours, and had nothing to show for it.

“Agh,” said Amy.
“Damn Swedes, all show and no substance,” I said.
“No,” said mom. “We’re getting you chairs.”

So we didn’t leave empty-handed. We were successful. We found chairs that we liked that were also in stock and we walked out with them.

To be continued…

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