Yesterday, my friend Maria's baby boy Noah was baptised. This took place in Kolding, and since I was in Copenhagen, but had to be back in Århus in the evening, we had to get up very early at Stefan's place, bring ourselves and all of my luggage to Kolding, leave the luggage in a luggage box at the train station, go to the baptism, go back to the station afterwards, get the luggage out, and then take trains in different direction (Stefan back to his place and me and my luggage back to my own place in Århus). This sounds complicated enough, but apparently the universe disagreed and added several complications.
First, there were no buses to take us to the station early on a Sunday morning, so we had to take a taxi. That's manageable, since Stefan has a job and thus money.
Second, the dress I had bought turned out to show a lot more of my breasts than I had originally thought. This had the potential for being very troublesome, considering the impossibility of finding new nice clothes early in the morning at a place where you only have the clothes you chose to bring. However, I had also bought a big scarf to wear with the dress, and this could conveniently cover me up while looking nice at the same time.
Third - now it's getting rather more serious. Being occupied with my dress problems, I conveniently forgot the present, and didn't remember so until we'd gone about a third of the way to the station in our taxi. It turned out okay, but the taxi driver had to drive back, breaking the speed limit, I had to get out of the taxi and run to Stefan's flat and back to the taxi in my high heels, and the taxi driver then had to continue breaking the law to get us to the station with some time to spare. He managed quite well, though, so we actually had plenty of time.
Fourth, more taxis. This time from the church to the place where the party was, and from that place to the train station. Another relatively minor thing, since the fare from the church to the party was paid for by our hosts.
Fifth and worst: Luggage box trouble! (this is the grand finale!) Some complete idiot had failed to notice the difference between his own box (no. 2191) and ours (2194) and put his key in our box where he managed to get it completely stuck. So when we came to get our stuff, we couldn't get it out. We notified the staff, and in the end they did find a key that could open the box, but not before we'd refused to let one lady tell us she couldn't do anything about it - apparently she thought leaving us to cope with it ourselves was an excellent way to handle it, until it was clear we intended to keep bothering her unless she actually tried to do something. Fortunately, the other woman whom she asked to help her find out what to do seemed more competent, and the problem was solved.
First, there were no buses to take us to the station early on a Sunday morning, so we had to take a taxi. That's manageable, since Stefan has a job and thus money.
Second, the dress I had bought turned out to show a lot more of my breasts than I had originally thought. This had the potential for being very troublesome, considering the impossibility of finding new nice clothes early in the morning at a place where you only have the clothes you chose to bring. However, I had also bought a big scarf to wear with the dress, and this could conveniently cover me up while looking nice at the same time.
Third - now it's getting rather more serious. Being occupied with my dress problems, I conveniently forgot the present, and didn't remember so until we'd gone about a third of the way to the station in our taxi. It turned out okay, but the taxi driver had to drive back, breaking the speed limit, I had to get out of the taxi and run to Stefan's flat and back to the taxi in my high heels, and the taxi driver then had to continue breaking the law to get us to the station with some time to spare. He managed quite well, though, so we actually had plenty of time.
Fourth, more taxis. This time from the church to the place where the party was, and from that place to the train station. Another relatively minor thing, since the fare from the church to the party was paid for by our hosts.
Fifth and worst: Luggage box trouble! (this is the grand finale!) Some complete idiot had failed to notice the difference between his own box (no. 2191) and ours (2194) and put his key in our box where he managed to get it completely stuck. So when we came to get our stuff, we couldn't get it out. We notified the staff, and in the end they did find a key that could open the box, but not before we'd refused to let one lady tell us she couldn't do anything about it - apparently she thought leaving us to cope with it ourselves was an excellent way to handle it, until it was clear we intended to keep bothering her unless she actually tried to do something. Fortunately, the other woman whom she asked to help her find out what to do seemed more competent, and the problem was solved.
So that's it for now. Coming up here on my blog: My new diet (I need to lose weight, unfortunately), and my experiences as an intern at a dementia clinic where I started today.
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