Herbie Mann Comin' Home

Monday, May 25, 2009

Escape From Ikea

The kitchen clock stopped. On my way to a bakery across the valley was Ikea. People were filing in, but not in huge numbers. I entered, in order to see their clock collection. It was half-an-hour till opening. Couldn't look.
They were serving free breakfasts. I left.

On the way back from the bakery, maybe 10 minutes to the opening hour, I pulled into the lot again, but had to park way, way back. I walked a long way into the entrance and queued up with scores of people. I practiced a zen alertness, never looking at my timepiece, never feeling impatience. Just looking at the size of the crowd, the size of the people, and listening to the bland chatter, the squall of a nearby toddler.

When the rope was loosed and entry was allowed, the bottleneck was uncomfortable and close, inviting every and all exchange of virus.

Ducking through a mock apartment display, I made it to the clocks. They were outsized or very plastic and cheap.

I followed the blue exit line, finding myself disgorged into the parking warehouse (#1), and got to the rear of parking warehouse (#2) where my car sat next to a young couple trying to wedge some load of disassembled home furnishing into their hatchback.

Out above the street I flew like a zen bird.

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