By: Cazzy Lewchuk, Staff Writer

A surprise to some, a great deal of excitement for others —  IKEA’s pop-up shop is now open at SFU. Titled “Hej Hösten!” (Hey University!), the pilot project is targeted towards students moving into the dorms. For most, it’s their first time living away from home and not having mommy take care of every single need and want. “We are helping young people develop critical life skills: navigating IKEA, assembling furniture from IKEA, and not breaking up with your partner after a trip to IKEA,” IKEA spokesperson Abba D. Sweed explained.

This was a rare opportunity to shop for some real furniture for dorms. Most of us just use milk crates, a pile of blankets, and empty IKEA boxes. Under the assumption that Hej Hösten would result in returning customers, designer furniture sets were priced at suspiciously low prices. 

I received an email inviting “försökspersoner” (I assume this was a typo for journalists!) to an exclusive preview showing. It was a great opportunity to cover this for The Peak. More importantly, I needed a trash can and shelves. I’ve been keeping my garbage in my backpack and my books under my bed (three milk crates held together by duct tape). Minimalism, am I right? 

The invitation was for sunset at the empty area outside the dining commons. I arrived to find a massive beige structure dominating the lot, a new addition to the previously barren concrete. It was shapeless and off-putting, with a shade and design unlike anything I’ve seen before — much like most IKEA furniture and the AQ (I wonder if they’re related?).

I entered to find a hallway so long I couldn’t see the end. There were aisles to my left and right — dozens of them stretching far into a dark void. Luckily, there were arrows on the floor showing which direction to go. Unfortunately, there were 12 of them at each corner, pointing in all directions like a clock. I was relieved to see the sections were labelled. But I don’t speak Swedish, and it looked like the English translations hadn’t been added yet. Damn you, Duolingo for not teaching me practical language skills.

With no sense of direction, I decided to take my chances and went to the first door on the right, where I was greeted by a juggler dancing. He waltzed in front of a red curtain, gliding across a zig-zag striped linoleum floor. Ethereal jazz music played as he approached me, swaying with a huge grin. “Can you tell me where the trash cans are?” I asked, only slightly frightened. He handed me a Swedish meatball. Great. This was identical to regular IKEA locations, where the presence of employees is confined to the food court. And yes, I ate the meatball. 

I had various other strange encounters, including witnessing raccoons tearing apart a showroom of a dorm. My Swedish meatball (which was surprisingly undercooked and might give me salmonella — but I digress) swivelled in my stomach. I began crawling, searching for an exit. The only thing that found an exit was the meatball in the pit of my stomach. 

My continued journey was so intense and life-changing that words cannot describe the adventure. I witnessed depths of IKEA that I would have never expected to see before in my life. I saw inexpensive dishes dropping out of a chute labelled “FANCY EUROPEAN STUFF,” a billion French presses that could walk, and ten thousand Swedish fish swimming towards me. I crawled as fast as I could.  I even glimpsed the rarest sight of all; a fast moving checkout line with numerous cashiers. It really makes one think about the grand meaning of the cosmos, and why the furniture giant continues to dominate the competition.

After what felt like 30 years of crawling, I finally saw the light. Not death, but an exit. I then realized that I forgot my garbage can, so I crawled right back inside. Oh well.