Other aisles, other lines

So - we went to IKEA on Saturday. Had not been to one since Pittsburgh '96 (that was the same trip where the credit sequence to Happy Gilmore, wherein Adam Sandler is making "humping" motions in every shot, nearly made me wet my pants - but, as evs, I digress). We bought the HARFMUMT, the SLABELF and the BINEFLENH. Or something. Still, it was a bit traumatic.



First, the lighting perplexed and alarmed and the EXIT>>> signs were meaningless, since no matter which way one went, there was more CRAP all over the place.



Then:



Me: "What if the item we want [in the self-serve (!) get-it-down-your-own-damn-self area] is not reachable?"



Meth-mouth kid employee (sneeringly): "It won't be."



Then, at the end of a bitter hour and a half jaunt, we paid for our FIFFBRINDL and were pointed to a naugahyde purgatory by the warehouse, where we were told said item would be forthcoming in "eight or nine" minutes.



AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, we were telling the poor souls who remained (and there weren't many, and some had been there before us) that we would "send for help" and asking if there were anyone on the outside to whom we could relay messages.



They may still be there.