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| - I preface this by saying IKEA is an experience not a store, and if you go there expecting to spend less than 1 or 2 hours of your day you will be sadly mistaken. The first time I went into an IKEA (not this one) all those years ago I had no idea what I was getting into, and after 3 hours of wandering around blindly was scared, lost, and searching frantically for the exit. It was terrifying. Since then, I have been back countless times and have a sincere love/hate relationship with it, of which I will share with you here. So without further ado, grab some popcorn and get comfortable--It's a long read, but hopefully an enjoy able one!
This IKEA has an extra large parking lot like all of them, so even though you may have a bit of a walk from the door, you can always find a spot. Honestly, as crazy as Phx drivers are it's probably safer to park farther out and take the sidewalk up the middle. You're only playing Frogger twice that way, instead of dodging every car whipping into and out of the parking spots as you walk by them. Pro Tip: Text yourself where you parked. Trust me on this one.
This IKEA is set up like pretty much every other one we've been to. You walk in and immediately take an escalator to the second floor, the "show room" area and cafe, assuming you have no little monsters to drop off at the play zone first. Yes, they have their own kiddie daycare area.
The show room is full of ideas and constantly undergoing changes for new ones. This is where you walk around and almost wish you had a small 400 square foot flat because of all the amazing ideas they give you for rooms with no room, all while thinking about their crackballs--i mean, meatballs. Then you remember this isn't Sweden, (or Paris, or London, or NYC, or California, or anywhere else you might actually have only a 250-400 sq ft flat), and move along. At this point I must note the sheer irony of such a large store, catering to such small homes and apartments. They also have options for larger rooms, including my dream home library set up and always on display, for which I am currently not in a living arrangement conducive to such things. Rude. You also spend this entire level dodging scores of customers wandering around aimlessly, stopping in the middle of the aisles, and generally being irritating.
After wandering around the show room for an indeterminate amount of time, if you're lucky, you find your way to the stairs down to the first floor. This IKEA purgatory. This is where you become Hamlet and ask yourself, "To meatball, or not to meatball, that is the question." Yes, those famous IKEA meatballs are within visual (and smelling) range, and it doesn't matter if you're hungry or not. If you've never had them you wouldn't understand. I'm not honestly sure if that would make you lucky or unlucky either. I've been to IKEA on more than one occasion solely for the meatballs. I am not ashamed. Don't get me started on the chocolate cake. It's a slice of heaven, and though it's large enough to share you won't want to.
Should you take the stairs down to the first floor, you reach what we refer to as the "Oh no, it's a maze of boxes and accessories, and the crazy people from upstairs and the parking lot are driving around shopping carts from hell" section. I'm not joking. Normal shopping carts have two pivoting wheels up front, and two locked position (typically forward) wheels in the back. This allows for superb handling and control, and makes sense. Not IKEA's shopping carts from hell. Imagine loading potentially 100+ pounds of things you love but had no idea you needed onto a cart with 4 spinning wheels. FOUR. SPINNING. WHEELS. Now imagine trying to navigate it around a corner with a boatload of forward momentum (which is equal to mass times velocity), and with oddly shaped items and boxes that extend outside the boundaries of the carts in all directions. I assure you a cart full of heavy things has plenty of momentum, which you can think of as destructive, wrecking-ball like force. It doesn't take a Physicist to realize it's probably not gonna go in the direction you want. Watching a T-Rex making a 90 degree turn at a full run and wiping out completely isn't an entirely inaccurate description.
If you survive the parking lot Frogger, the show floor maze, the trance-inducing meatballs, and the shopping cart driving T-rexes, you then proceed to the final level of hell--the check out lines. There are always ample cashiers and lanes, including self-checkout lanes, yet they manage to have lines out the wazoo. Count on standing in line for at least 10-15 minutes, even if you only have 1 or 2 items. That may be a conservative estimate.
At the end, you emerge frazzled, tired, scared, and get to relive the parking lot Frogger experience on the way back to your car. You get home, love all your stuff, and can't wait to go back for more stuff and ideas. But mostly, probably for the meatballs.
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