Nov 11: The Human Maze!

Good afternoon, tators! I am happy to inform you that today is the first day in probably about, oh forever that I feel human again. I had the sniffly/achy/icky/just plain dog tired sickness. This rare but highly contagious virus comes from the perfect combination of; lack of sleep, too many activities, and nada downtime.

Today is Veteran's Day; please take a moment to remember our troops; both past and present.

Anywho...

Yesterday, while in my funk, I decided to venture out of my casa to Ikea. Now, I have never embarked on this journey to the land of Ikea. "Why?", you may ask, because I heard many horrific rumors of people never returning from the depths of Ikea. One that still haunts me is the one about a whole Brazilian tour group getting lost for days despite their leader waving the national flag, in the human maze constructive of self put-together, press-board, furniture and sleek, Swedish knick-knacks in the Ikea Orlando store. Despite this tale, I decided to push the vicious rumors aside, put on my brave face and venture into the Ikea-unknown. I mean, hell I have climb two of the seven summits, how bad could it be? To ready myself, I charged my cell phone, made sure I had a bottle of Coke Zero, a Zone bar, and told Carl-E where I was going just incase he did not hear from me by 9pm.

Why did I go to Ikea???

I finally moved into my office/studio space, and I needed a desk chair. Most of the office desk chairs that one finds at the office supply store are way too big. They are made for like people over 5' 2" which I am so not; not even on a hot day where my bones stretch and wearing my Christian Loubuton wedges. Ikea chairs are designed for small spaces; hence small people like moi.

So...
I pull into the massive parking garage, that is the size of the Grand Canyon, and follow the yellow "Entrance" signs. After walking 4 miles thinking the entrance was just around every corner, only to be physced out by just another "This Way" sign, and going up an escalator, I finally reached the "true" entrance. Waiting for me was a cheery young lady, dressed in a sunny yellow shirt that said, "Ikea" in navy blue block letter. "Welcome to Ikea; can I help you?" I told the her what I was looking for, and she pointed and said, "Right through there are the office chairs." Now, I was feeling very confident that I would find my chair, and check out lickity-split. Just like Dorothy followed the yellow birck road in the "Wizard of Oz", I followed the yellow arrows painted on the floor to the office chairs. Just for fun, I grabed a map, and away I went. However, just as I tok the first turn, I could of swore I heard an evil cackle come from the direction of that "nice" young lady.

Well...
After walking for over 30 minutes, I finally found the office section. But let's back up...
During the first part of my journey, I was so happy that this was butta, that I started to skip, hum a happy little Ludacris ditty, and gaze at all the cute little home set-ups. However, the displays never ended, and then I began to notice the other shoppers. They seemed zombie like. Their eyes were as big as saucers, blood-shot, had dark cicles, and their mouths hung slack. I swear I saw a woman drooling on herself as if she spotted the last limited mirror addition LV. Despite these sights, I pressed on while gulping my Coke Zero for an extra rush of caffeine goodness. However, the deeper I traveled into the deep, dank, dimly lit caverns of Ikea, fear began to gain on me. However, I had a mission, I had to get a pleather and plastic Swedish engineered, rolling, adjustable, chair!

Finally...
When I reached the chairs, the selection was too big. There were mesh backed chairs, chairs with and without arms, pink, blue, red, patterned chairs, rolling and non-rolling, and all different prices. I began to try out the chairs, only to become more confused; Did I want to recline? Did I need arms? Did I want to be able to roll around? The pressure was getting to me! Finally, I decided on a nice wheely, chair with arms and faux leather.

But...
I did not know where to get my chair. I looked for a sale person, but conveniently they were no where to be found (NOTE: I think they were behind the mirrors that are really-two taking pleasure in my bewilderment). Using my woman's intuition, I figured out I had to write down the number off the tag (NOTE: See Dad, all those years of college finally paid off!). Now, I had to find the way out. I followed the signs, and followed the signs, adn then found a sign that said "Short Cut To Check OUt." I decided against my better judgment to follow this sign. Well, tators your girl wound up right back where she started. I had to got through the whole maze AGAIN!

After a 1/2 an hour...
I finally made it to the area where I picked up my chair. Now, I had to get out of Ikea. After two elevator trips (NOTE: It should of been 1 but I missed my stop), and walking another 14,000 miles, I found my Beemer. as I drove out of the parking garage, I swore that the next time I dare to venture into Ikea, I need to know exactly what I want, get the number, and head for the exit, otherwise I may become the next Ikea missing-person legend.

I gots to bounce!