I’m a planner. I plan things. For example, I’ve had this trip to Edinburgh booked since August 20th. Knowing I’d have to get to the train station super early in the morning, I then booked a car to fetch me from the flat – that’s been booked since August 23rd. I like to have everything organized and planned so I don’t have to stress out about how, what, when, and why.
The car didn’t show up this morning. That is not only annoying, but infuriating: it was a pre-paid booking, so now I have to deal with angry emails and refunds (for not only this trip, but the other two trips I have booked and paid because I am not doing this again).
Luckily, there’s Uber in London, and a car was relatively close by. The driver picked me up and we were off into nasty traffic. No worries, he assured me he’d have me at the station with plenty of time to spare. He dropped me off at 7:10, and everything was peachy.
.. Until I realized I was at the WRONG STATION.
My train was departing from King’s Cross, and the driver took me to Euston. I now had 11 minutes to get to the station “just a five minute walk away”, which is great if you don’t have stupid tiny elf legs which walk slower than broken turtles. I tried hailing a taxi, but they were all in use. Desperate, I hopped a bus (which I almost missed, when the driver shut the door in my face).
7:26. At the right station. But where am I going? Luckily the platform was close by and not further down, because I would have been fucked. I scanned my ticket in, dodged 100 people exiting their own train, and found my platform. I’m in Car E, and naturally I was at the other end, by Car ZZQOR7🌀🔱. Run. Run run run run. Slow to a walk, because fucking ow. Final boarding announced, so I got on the nearest car and made my way up to my (occupied, naturally) seat. Shuffled some friends who didn’t want to move, sat my ass down, and almost cried – I literally made it with seconds to spare.
Now I am sweaty, exhausted, grumpy, and hungry .. but on my way to Scotland, so I got that going for me which is nice.