The weekend before last, Boyfriend Kamran and I decided to explore the new Brooklyn Ikea and buy a tiny dresser for me to overflow with the zillions of polka-dot shirts that I’m currently storing folded on a chair in the corner of his apartment. We’ve always had access to the Ikea in Elizabeth, New Jersey, via a free shuttle bus from Port Authority, but the new Brooklyn Ikea is located in an up-and-coming neighborhood that we want to explore, anyway, AND it’s accessible via a free water ferry from lower Manhattan.
But of course we took the free shuttle bus outside of the Borough Hall subway station. (Which, if you’re oddly here for informational purposes, is on Joralemon Street near the northeast corner of Court Street.) And instead of buying a dresser, we:
2) Imagined my future library when I can finally afford to buy books again
3) Defiled a sheepskin rug by pretending I was wearing nothing underneath it
4) Appreciated the old industrial Brooklyn while surrounded by the new-Brooklyn aging-hipster dads with their thirty-is-the-new-twenty mentality and their ANNOYING CHILDREN
5) Ate some really weird stuff in the cafeteria
6) Didn’t eat some other weird stuff in the grocery section, thankfully
7) Tried to figure out the difference between hand-blown and mouth-blown
We ended up buying a set of plastic containers for me to haul salad fixins to work in (which will never actually happen) and a wooden artist’s model, which Kamran named Chip and kept petting while murmuring, “You’re my only friend.” We are truly a pathetic lot. But we have a good time.
