Ireland doesn’t particularly have the climate for a theme park, but that’s fine. If you want to go on a rollercoaster (of the emotional variety), then get thee to IKEA! Today let’s delve into some of the wide range of emotions experienced in this wonderful store and get to the route of our inevitable emotional breakdowns during the visit.
So have a seat, or a ‘Gblurta’, as they say in IKEA.
- Excitement
The main qualifying factor for a trip to IKEA is that you need two or more household items that the Argos catalogue doesn’t satisfy. You start a list on your finest stationery paper, with a good inky pen that glides across the page like a wooden spoon through cake batter. The possibilities are endless! You don’t bother consulting their website or catalogue because they will 100% have what you’re looking for. This is going to be F.U.N.!
- Impatience
Why is IKEA so far away? Should snacks be brought for the journey? Once you hit one red light, you end up hitting them all. Did himself really need to stop off for petrol and a Yop? Are the schools back yet? Seems like they’ve had longer holidays than you’ve ever had. Should’ve just been a teacher!
- Resurgence Of Excitement
We’re here! You recite inaccurate facts to your unfortunate company, “Apparently IKEA is the same size as Croke Park”, “The Swedish eat their young from time to time”, “IKEA stands for I Know Everything, Alright?”, etc. The struggle to find a parking space is certainly made more bearable with your fun little nuggets of information, that’s for sure.
- Bewilderment
You’ve only come for a few things, but what size trolley is right for you? Can you fit all of your Swedish hopes and dreams into a moderately-sized basket? Do the Swedish actually eat their young? Will A-ha ever do a comeback tour? Stick to what you know. There’s free measuring tapes and pencils, fill your bag quickly, before they ask you to leave.
- Fear
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As you peruse the furniture, reality sinks in. This trip to IKEA could put you in financial turmoil. Sure, the items are reasonably priced but they all add up. Why does everyone else seem like they know what they’re doing? Admittedly, you’ve been to IKEA close to twelve times now, but it’s still like a foreign territory. Are you filling in the list correctly? Will the 56 pencils in your bag give you lead poisoning? What if they have the wrong shade 'Kghgujrt' pillows? Oh look, a self-assembly lampshade, better get five.
- Further Bewilderment
We’re in Ireland. Why aren’t the product names in English? Or Irish? There are footsteps painted on the ground to help guide you around the shop, but some people are ignoring the footsteps. What do they know that you don’t? Are the candles nearby? Hopefully they’re close. Genuinely though, do the Swedish eat their young?
- Delight
The trolley is really filling up and your patience is running low. All this shopping is hungry work. Good thing you can get a sixteen-course dinner for approximately €3. Swedish meatballs? Why not! When in Rome Ballymun. Free refills on drinks are a personal challenge, which you fully accept. Plus, it’s essential to wash down your second slice of that magnificent Dime Bar cake.
IKEA is the best! Refreshed and refueled, you’re ready to attack the flat-pack collection area with the strength of a thousand Operation Transformation participants at a buffet.
- Relief
You’ve done it. Success! The trip hasn’t ruined your entire life. You’ve gotten the “few essentials” you needed without having to remortgage your house. Might as well celebrate with a self-serve 99. Yeah, you’re stuffed from the sixteen-course meal, but it’s only a 99 and you get to serve it yourself which means you are in charge of the portions. Fill your bag before they ask you to leave.
Have I missed any emotions encountered during a trip to IKEA? What kind of experiences have you had there? Let us know in the Ughrytg (that's Swedish for comments*).
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*translation may be inaccurate
