Day 748: The Chair, Part 7 – The First Trip to IKEA

The next morning, I loaded Grayson into the car and headed off to IKEA.  I was actually pretty excited; I had heard a lot of really great thing about the store.

Our arrival was uneventful… and our shopping experience was pretty uneventful as well.  I found the chair without a problem… as well as some new jungle curtains for Gray’s bedroom and a reasonably priced children’s art easel.  Just three things… and quickly made our exit, just as the showroom started to become more and more crowded.

Since Grayson and I don’t really care for crowds we dashed for the item pick-up areas and finally the check-out.  Which was already packed full… with a fairly long wait… and it was a mess.  There had to have been 40 check-out lanes open, yet every single one of them must have had 10+ people waiting.

Where in the world did these people come from?  They were pushing their way into lines… cutting… screaming, complaining… Grayson started to lose it… he was only two years old at the time, so it was a pretty big father/son trip.  He had really kept it together until the very end.

Eventually, I found a line and committed to it, all the while trying to get Gray to calm down… unsuccessfully.

Then… when I was about two people away from the checkout counter someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned to see a young woman, who looked at me and asked, “Can I go ahead of you?  I only have one item.”

I was totally flapped… was this woman serious?  There were at least a half dozen people behind me and she asks to cut?  Just because she has one item?  I was 100% dumbfounded.  My jaw hit the floor and she just stared back at me while I completed processing what she was asking, my surroundings, and my screaming child.

What came out of my mouth has actually been debated by a number of my friends.  Some think I was incredibly rude and should have let her cut without saying anything… others applaud the dialogue and think I should have done something even more rude… like throw my shoe at her.  You be the judge.

Finally, when I regained my wits:

Me: “Are you a doctor?”

Girl: “What?

Me: “Are you a doctor?  Are you trying to get to an emergency?”

Girl: “Umm... no, I just have one item.”

Me:  “Interesting.  I have three items, granted that’s two more than you have, but I also have a crying child, which should count for something.

Girl: “Umm…”

Me:  “You know, in most cultures people yield to those with children, cause trust me, standing in a never ending line with this guys is no picnic for me either.  If you were a doctor or something I’d be willing to entertain the notion.  But, judging by the length of your skirt, the cut of your top, and the fact you approached me and not her…”
Me: “… I can only assume you’re just trying to jump in line because you don’t feel like waiting."
Me: “Huh, it looks to me that he doesn’t feel like waiting either.  But we are… because no one cares about the guy with the crying kid.”

The girl didn’t move.  She just kind of stared at me… now she was dumbfounded… however; there was still a glint of hope in her eyes.  She still thought I might let her cut.  Was she really so used to getting her way?  Evidently.

Me: “Seriously, if you’re not a doctor, you should probably go to the end of the line, and I would hurry, from the looks of it, it’s getting longer.”

Girl: “Oh… ummm… thank you.”

And you know what?  She did go to the end of the line… for about 10 seconds… long enough to spot another dude she could shake her Ikeas at.

Day 747: The Chair, Part 6 – The Ides of March

As Costello and I stepped onto the second train I remembered something.  I had been so caught-up in my story about the glider chair I had forgotten the frightening purpose of our trip.  We were going to Ikea.


Nothing good ever comes from a trip to Ikea.  Yet, I was on my way… again.


This was only my second trip to an Ikea store, my first trip was almost two years prior, in Atlanta.  And that experience left me with… well… all I can say is this:  Ikea is officially the second scariest place on Earth… just behind Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.


I don’t know why, but people seem to lose their minds when they go to Ikea.  It’s as if there is a frequency, kind of like a dog whistle, specially designed for Ikeas shoppers which causes them to lose all reason and sensibility… urging them to purchase modular furniture.  


Evidentially, this is a frequency I am unable to hear.


So, what led me to visit Ikea in the first place?  This is a dumb question because you know it was because of a CHAIR.  It’s ALWAYS about a chair.  I should have known better.  A chair never leads to candy canes and ice cream… only sorrow and deep longing to see sunlight and a good cry.


Anyway, while attending a bar-bq at a friend’s house, Serena and I were admiring a children’s sized arm chair… 


Our Friend Heather: “Oh, isn’t it great?  We got it at Ikea for $20.00, KJ loves it.”


Serena: “Honey, we should get one for Grayson, he would love it, too.”  


Me: “Yeah… we should… you know, I don’t have to work tomorrow, I could take Grayson to get one… I’ve never been to Ikea, so yeah… I’d love to check it out.” 


Soothsayer: “DOOM… DOOM I SAY!!!!  Beware!  Beware the Forbidden City!  Beware the ides---”  


Me: “Heather, why is there a creepy old lady in your back yar--- Yummy, Ribs!  Awesome! This is the best March 4th party I’ve ever attended!”


I should have listened.  But I was foolish. So, so foolish.

Day 746: The Chair, Part 5 – The Glider Chair

The train still hadn’t arrived and Costello began to get restless, “We’ve been waiting here a long time.”


“Yes we have... too long in fact… it’s time for the Glider Chair story.”


You see, back in the States, after having Grayson we got this really nice hand-me-down glider chair… I can’t remember where this chair came from… but I’m pretty sure about this single fact.  The chair was forged in hell.


For those of you who haven’t met Serena yet or don’t know about this adorable trait of hers, let me explain.  Serena has a pathological need to rock… even if the chair doesn’t… she’ll just sit and move back and forth incessantly.  Sometimes when we’re sharing a stationary couch and she worked herself into a rocking frenzy, bobbing in and out of my peripheral vision while we watch TV… I will start to get a little seasick.  So, I’ll have to position myself in such a way were she doesn’t invade my line of sight.  So, with the addition of her very own glider chair small portion of my sanity was saved… at least for a little while.  


Even with the chair carefully positioned out of my peripherals… the chair turned on me… after a couple months… it started to squeak… and it squeaked BAD!  


Folks… I spend hours, days, and entire weekends trying to figure out where the squeak was going from.  


Armed with a screw driver and a can of WD40 I went to war with this chair.  And I won!  So I thought.


After a long afternoon of tightening and loosening screws and oiling the chairs moving parts I would sit and rock.  


Silence.  


Perfect, blissful silence.  I won!


And then, later in the evenings, after my successful battles with the glider chair, Serena would sit and rock… and the chair would squeak, Squeak, SQUEAK!


 The chair was mocking me.  Laughing at me, just like the dang wedding chairs!


There was nothing I could do about it… after my fifth attempt at ‘fixing’ the chair I realized the squeak was a weight compression issue.  The chair didn’t squeak when I was sitting in it because I was heavy enough to compress all of the moving parts, rendering them silent.  Serena simply wasn’t heavy enough.  


As a solution I suggested we eat more processed foods and pasta… but that didn’t fly with Serena.  So instead… I found myself wandering aimlessly though Home Depot looking for heavy things… and then dreaming up ways to attach those items to the bottom of the chair.  In the end I developed a plan which involved attaching ceramic tiles to the bottom of the chair… but I never tested it out… we joined the Foreign Service and we exiled the chair to Hagerstown.


But I am sure we will meet again Glider Chair… our battle is far from over.

Day 745: The Chair, Part 4 – The Question

The tubes were pretty crowded the day of our trip to Ikea… so Costello and I didn’t talk much on the first leg of our trip.  We were simply focused on the task at hand.  Since Costello’s arrival London we had been exploring ever inch of the city and as the Gilliam’s due date grew closer, I couldn’t put off the purchase of Serena’s rocking chair any longer.


Sure, we were venturing out of the city for a “quick” run to Ikea… but we were still determined to make the Jack The Ripper Walking Tour, which started in a mere four hours.  Easy, right?  We could make it.


Sure.


As we stepped off the Bakerloo train in preparation of the second leg of our journey we found ourselves in a practically deserted station.  It was then when Costello spoke, “Don’t you guys already have a rocking chair?”


His question stung worse than a double leaping hip attack…


Yes, we did have a rocking chair… AND a glider chair.


Yes, Costello’s question stung deep.  


I had to throw out the rocking chair when the wicker seat could no longer hold the weight of a human body… but that darn glider chair… that darn CHAIR!  The glider chair was a whole different story.  


“That chair was a menace; I banished it to Hagerstown where it belongs… where it won’t hurt anyone for the rest of eternity… (By ‘eternity’ I mean the number of years I will be employed by the federal government).


Costello looked confused, “What do you mean?  What did the chair do?”


“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Day 744: The Chair, Part 3 – The Wedding

Yes, when it came to setting up and moving chairs I had gotten pretty darn cocky.  How cocky?


Well, I made the decision to set-up the chairs for my own wedding.  


FAIL!


Serena and I had not only decided to exchange our vows at my parent’s house, we decided have the ceremony on the dock, with the water and the setting sun make the most picturesque back drop.  On paper it was perfect.  We would stand on the dock, together, dressed in white… with all of our guests gazing upon the beautiful scene from shore.  


Originally, the scene in our heads didn’t involve chairs… no, we envisioned everyone standing at the water’s edge.  That was until someone… I can’t remember who… probably a chair double agent, planted a seed… “The ceremony will be too long to expect your guests to stand, they should sit.”  


Me: “The ceremony will only be ten minutes.” 


Them: “That’s a long time.”  


Me: “What about a PA system?  I doubt people will hear the ceremony from shore”


Them: “No, you don’t need a PA system, if people can sit down they won’t care if they can hear or not.”


Blast you chairs!


The search was on.  We needed chairs.  We eventual found a church, thirty minutes away from my parents lake house, who was willing to lend us as many metal folding chairs as we wanted.  So, on the day of my wedding, with my brother and Costello at my side, we drove to the church and loaded the chairs… if my memory severs me correctly, it took us two or three trips to get all the chairs to the house.  However, getting the chairs to the house was only half the job… we also needed to get them to the lake.


Now, I’m not sure what the exact distance from the house to the lake is… but I know this… cars can’t fit down our winding dirt lake path… and hand carrying those metal chairs to the water felt like a half mile… each trip.  Did I mention this was a July wedding?  The sun took no mercy on us that day.


Finally, the chairs were set… the guests began to arrive… I cleaned up and changed clothes… and then… it started to rain.


And rain.


And rain.


Now, a good friend of mine is of Indian decent (the real kind of Indian, like from the county, not the ‘Columbus was lost’ kind of Indian) and she told me that in her culture, rain on a special occasion, like a wedding was considered good luck.  I can’t help but believe this… I am very lucky and have a beautiful family.  


However, I can’t help but think those chairs were behind the rain.  Why do I think that?  Because the next day, the day after I got married, those chairs openly laughed at me as I hand carried them back up the path to the house… they laughed at me as I loaded them back into the car… and they laughed at me as I returned them to the church.


Not one of those chairs had been used and I had invented over eight hours of my life moving them.

Day 743: The Chair, Part 2 – The County

As Costello and I whizzed through the tunnels beneath the streets of London, I couldn’t help but think about the series of events that had led me to this moment… my years of servitude to chairs had ultimately led to this, the showdown.  


I had been setting up chairs for half of my life… not a statistic I am particularly proud of; however, it is the truth.  In the early years, when my older brother was in school, I used to help set-up chairs for band concerts… a task I continued to perform throughout my own dabbling in band and then theatre.


Eventually, I found myself coordinating events for Cobb County’s Department of Parks, Recreation and Cultural Affairs.  And in the world of grassroots governmental event planning, even the coordinators had to get their hands dirty in order to get the job done.  Getting up at crack of dawn to set-up 500+ chairs only to turn around and take them down again as the sun began to set was a normal weekend for me.  I was good at it… so good in fact that I got cocky… too cocky.

Day 742: The Chair, Part 1 - The Beginning

London, winter time, and as I waited for the Underground train with my good buddy Costello, I knew we shouldn’t go… the voice inside my head screamed, however, I wouldn’t listen… even though I knew. Dang it, why hadn’t I listened?  


Nothing good ever comes from going to IKEA… especially a trip to IKEA… for a chair.


It’s rather hard to explain, but this wasn’t my first skirmish with a chair.  I had met chairs in battle many times before this and I am sure there will be many more battle still to come.  For every great hero is destined to fight at least one epic villain.  Superman has Lex Luther, Spiderman has the Green Goblin, Conan O’Brien has NBC, and I have chairs.


A few years ago, I thought about swearing off of them entirely… and then my feet started to hurt and I wanted to sit down.   Those devilish chairs always get me right where they want me… off balance. 


Costello knew what we were up against, I could tell by the look in his eyes.  This wasn’t the first time he’d stood by my side in battle.  Costello is the Robin to my Batman, the Bing Crosby to my Bob Hope… the Sammy Hagar to my David Lee Roth… if only that last made sense.  


As the train pulled into Baker Street Station, Costello gave me the nod… the “I’m ready for anything” nod.  And he was… we were… we stepped onto the train and it was games time.  We knew what we had to do.  Give IKEA ‘the business’... 


… but we should have known.  Oh, sorrow… we should have known.