Sunday, September 7, 2008

Home or Away... it's still Ikea

Globalization within companies just makes things creepy. I went to Ikea today. And I might as well have never left Glasgow. It was identical in almost every way. Even down to the bickering children at the checkout, although instead of "Micheala! Chantarelle!! Gonna put that doon or i'm gonna skelp the pair of youze and your no gettin a Maccy D's!!" it was "Brad! Amy! Get your butt over here!" although both delivered with walrus-like volume.

I decided to do the little visit to the never ending labyrinth not realising that 'little' visit meant 'heinously long squelchy and almost almost crippling' schlep. Garrr. It all started off so well.. oh wait... not it didn't.

Woke up at 10.46 and remembered I was supposed to meet my domesticated-outing partner at 11. Good start. Various false starts later, I met J, a fellow scot at Wall Street and we dawdled down to Peir 11 to board the free water taxi provided to take you to the store in Brooklyn. Boarded, after a little mishap on the gangplank where I managed to walk with a significant wobble, and prompt the guy to ask if I was drunk. NO! The ground is moving!! bah..

Soon enough the Big Blue warehouse loomed into view. I felt like I could have walked around with my eyes shut, it was so identical to my local store. After a hearty wander, an equally hearty lunch stop looking out of the window at the grey and murky skyline and the rain beginning to toss down, (ah I'm really home!!!) we completed our purchases and ventured back out into the now torrential storm that was beginning. And so began the adventure.

Leaving the flooded parking lot was one thing, joining the queue for the water taxi against the umbrella-eating gale was slightly worse, but boarding the boat was another challenge all together for me apparently. Going up the gangplank was fine, fighting the sideways rain, balancing my body sized Ikea bag and trying to shelter J under my umbrella at the same time as walking down the slope towards the doorway. That is the last thing I remember before my feet went from under me and I graciously slammed onto the deck. The pain from the knee that had just bent backwards wiped out any embarrassment I felt that the deckhand was hauling me up by my arms while J scrambled for my umbrella.

I hobbled into the boat and slumped in a seat while the pain took over. When the boat docked back on Manhattan, J and I had to disembark into a typhoon. Due to my intense concentration in walking along the gangplank, it meant I was more exposed to the elements. My entire right side was drenched in seconds. Once J and I reached the bridge, I could wring out my top. We struggled on towards Wall Street and attempted to walk back to the PATH station. That didn't go so well. 10 minutes and 2 major soakings as we crossed an avenue later, we hailed a cab. At least he stopped for us. So we gave him a nice tip.

We stood on the PATH platform and wrung out our clothes to the amusement of fellow passengers. We stumbled home looking like drowned rats so I could ice my knee and elicit sympathy from my roommate.

On the plus side I have a nice new wok for only $7....

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