I slept over by a friend in Rotterdam last night, after a huge dinner and a food baby the size of an elephant.
I still had my overnight bag since celebrating Sinterklaas in Den Haag and I.was.not.moving.
So I crashed on her couch and took the early train to work in the morning.
Sounds simple, right?
Well first of all, my train was half an hour late.
Which made me miss my other train connection.
Which made me late for the very last shuttle to my work site.
So I was stuck waiting on the regular bus, which takes a lot longer.
I then took the wrong bus, even after double checking with the bus driver.
I then realised that the bus driver mistook 'Bus towards airport' for 'Bus towards city.'
He then informed me that he was not a tour guide after I asked him which bus I should switch to.
Screw you too Mr.Busdriver, I have a BlackBerry and am therefore rendered useless.
I got out at the next available stop, after walking to the front of the bus to exit, which is apparently the wrong way to go on a Dutch bus.
"Get out via the back" Says Mr.A-hole Bus Driver.
And in my anger at Mr.A-hole Bus Driver, I failed to realise that this stop was in the middle of a 4 lane highway (I didn't know bus stops existed in such places)
Cue me getting pissed off,
stomping limping across the highway to the other side, weekend suitcase in tow, making SO much noise, only to realise that this bus stop was 'shut down' and defunct.
I then took out my shitty Blackberry and attempted to GPS Map my work.
YAY! It was just around the corner. FINALLY some good luck!
I smugly set off, determined to walk to work.
Walking turned into limping, as my knee started to swell and my hands & feet froze.
I realise that 'just around the corner' is in fact 5 kilometers.
Shit, I'm not going to make it.
I need to call my Manager and let her know, maybe even convince her to pick me up.
Except, my data decides to stop working and I can't Google anything.
(No, I didn't have my office number saved. We rarely use fixed lines at my office. Don't judge me)
Thankfully, Whatsapp seems to work.
I don't know how or why, as nothing in life makes sense to me at this point.
I continue to walk and type to one of my besties in London, who's frantically trying to Google phone numbers for me.
I tried at least 10 and not one of them work.
Then, FINALLY, I get through to a guy who works at my site but doesn't seem to know that my department exists.
He's annoyed that I've somehow gotten through to him of all people on this fine Monday morning.
"Do you even work at Philips?" he sighs.
"Yes, I p-p-promise you I do. I'm a stupid intern. Please, I'm just having a bad day, my hands are frozen and I need to get hold of Anna (my Manager)"
"Ok, the extension number is ---"
A giant truck blows its horn as it zooms by, nearly knocking me over.
"Sorry, can you repeat that again please? I didn't hear you"
"Are you near a computer? You could do this yourself."
"Are you kidding? I'm on a highway, freezing my hands off just talking to you. Please help me out here."
"Ok the extension is 2456"
"Can you repeat that once more please?"
"Well, I'm not convinced you work here actually. You should know this number."
"Yes, I'm not convinced. Try someone else."
"Ok thanks asshole, have a great day!"
I hung up on him and continued to stomp/limp along, walking past a truck yard and some large houses that were hundreds of metres from the road.
I was fuming but also laughing at myself.
This was the most bizarre situation. I didn't know what to do and my friend was having a panic attack in London on my behalf.
Finally I walked towards this forested area lining the road, which turned out to be a garden for a strange office of sorts, which looked like the love child of a rehab centre and a Gentlemans' Club.
I walked towards the building, ignoring the stares of everyone working inside. Bespeckled men in suits stopped talking, turned around, stood up and STARED as I walked up the reception.
Cue the transvestite secretary who was reluctant to even buzz the door, looking at me as though I was something the cat had dragged in.
Something I've learned since living in Holland is that it's ALWAYS better to play dumb and speak English. They have little pity for a girl who's fluent in Dutch but can't find her words in stressful situations. So I put on my best foreigner look, explained my situation in brief and asked for her to call me a cab.
In Dutch, she/he explained to the cab driver that I was this poor English girl who had clearly lost my way and needed to be taken to Philips. Perhaps I was going to get my limping leg fixed, she said, as she eyed me up and down. She had no idea I understood her. I smiled innocently and kept saying thank you.
I FINALLY got in a taxi and made my way to work, 2.5 hours late.
Being 25 has so far proven to be awesome...
I'd like to thank my shitty Blackberry for being there for me in such trying times.
And to the bestie in London, who had my back across the channel :)