Saturday, August 18, 2012

I is for Ikea

I couldn't think of a good general topic for the letter I, so this is going to be a personal story.
Back in eight grade, my friends and I used to have these mostly theoretical discussions on ways to be kicked out of Walmart. We came up with at least thirty different ways ranging from paying for expensive item in pennies to climbing inside a freezer and eating the popsicles. We meant to put them into action sometime but never actually got around to it.
Last week, my friends and I were talking about ikea. Namely how long it would take us to get kicked out. So we agreed on a date and time (tomorrow, high noonish sharp), got an adult to drive us, explained to each other what high noon meant, and met up for a day of adventure.
Unfortunately, my friend who would have had the most fun (and creativity) getting kicked out had a migraine. We didn't want her to miss out, so we just walked around and decided to do it some other time.
Actually, we walked around, talked, admired the fine quality furniture, pretended to eat off a beautifully set table, and staged a sword fight with the feather dusters.
I like to imagine we looked something like this.
They had a few hundred of those wooden artist models on display. We posed them so they looked like they were fighting or dancing or arguing.
I actually bought one. I was sure I'd regret it if I walked out without one. Now I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with it.
Ikea has a rather large selection of closets. We checked inside each person sized one in case Narnia was hiding behind it.
It wasn't.
My friend Hanna and I hid in one of the wardrobes. We wanted to see how long it took our other friends to realize we were missing and search for us. Turns out, they had the same idea. 
Which gave us a better idea: hide and seek in Ikea. 
I'm pretty sure I got some weird looks as I stood facing a row of lamps with my hands over my eyes and counted to thirty. I know I did get some as I squeezed in between a shelf and a wall. I thought I would be able to fit in it.
Most people seem to think all teenagers spend their days getting drunk, spray painting train cars, and robbing the occasional gas station. Yes, some of us do these things in our spare time. As do some adults. But in average, boring lives like mine, this is as close to mischief as we get. 
We're not nearly as extreme as you think we are.
Though that would be fun.

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