Jag Takar

Greetings faithful readers...

Well I just returned from a special place... A place draped in Swedish blue and sun-baked yellow... a place where you can buy a sofa and then some meat from a toothpaste tube. Yes, I visited IKEA. I've got to tell you, I was quite surprised by my experience.

I thought it was going to be a nightmare when we hit the 100 car line of traffic on the way in. Unbelievably we were through the line and past the plethora of parking staff within 5 minutes or so. I was 20 feet from the doorway that would soon be my portal to Scandanavian bliss.

Mindy and I walked toward the front door...music played from a PA system...I believe the song playing was the traditional Swedish anthem "Hey Ya" by Outkast. Instantly I was in the mood to buy...and buy plenty. The doors whooshed open and we were instantly faced with a purchasing decision. Kitchen carts for 49 bucks. For that? I pondered. Did I need a kitchen cart? Maybe...time would tell. We walked slowly toward the bright lights.

I faced an escalator up that led to the showroom. To the right was the children's drop-off area. We walked over and looked in. A ball pit...a rubber tree...videos playing...children distracted while their parents spend their Benjamins on kitchen strainers...it looked really cool inside. We turned around and headed toward the showroom. I grabbed the rail of the escalator and our ascent to Valhalla began. Thousands of people and low-priced homegoods. A match made in Södertälje.

They had everything. I mean it. The prices were incredibly low. Stuff that I had just bought at Wal-Mart were 50% lower here. No kidding. I picked up some glasses, a piggy bank, 2 teddy bears, a magazine rack, and some shower curtain hooks. Total bill: 38 cents.

Now that's 38 cents in terms of the Krona.... in American its about a Grant or so. We spent two hours walking around and just soaking it all in. Children screaming, couples dreaming, old grandmas laying down on the beds (seriously...one lady flopped herself down backwards on a mattress)...it was surreal at best. We made our way around to the registers and then I saw it:

A hotdog for 50 cents. I thought to myself...if this place had pearly gates and some of my relatives... it would be Heaven. It gets better...you could buy two of those artery-cloggers, and a bag of chips...and a drink for 2.50. I refrained from eating that stuff and instead did a run by the ladies with the samples. I had a piece of swedish crunch cookie, some berry sparkling drink, and a swedish meatball.

Let me take a second on the meatballs. Seriously...try one of these bad boys. The meat was actually falling apart tenderly in my mouth...gently wrapping its Swedish goodness around every tastebud...bathing my tongue in a wash of gravy that made me want to defect to Stockholm. It was as if there was a bluegrass band playing "Ode to Beef" in my head...and I never wanted the music to stop... The swedes are great at the Luge and meatballs. No joke.

Finally it was time to head back into the sunlight. My time had come to part ways with my new Swedish friend. Goodbye salted licorice (really.)...goodbye wall hooks that looked like the back end of a dog...goodbye ten dollar floor lamp made of paper mache...I must leave you all for now. But I'll be back.

My wife and I left the store...this time the PA was playing ABBA. Swedish supergroup...ABBA. "Dancing Queen" was a huge hit for them back in the day. Today it stood for so much more...an anthem celebrating all things Swedish...a refrain which will saunter through my head until I can once again partake of Scandinavian retail paradise. Jag tackar, IKEA...Jag tackar.

BV