In order to get to DTU using public transportation I have to use a train and then a bus. The busses are occationally a source of tragic comedy when, say, the next bus simply doesn't arrive, but two busses arrive at the same time afterwards. Or when you wait fifteen minutes for three potential busses and they all seem to arrive following a rather flat Poisson distribution, yet they manage to show up all three at the same time, quite literally in a row of busses.
I really don't like being late, and I definitely hate being stressed. In fact I'd rather show up way too early than I'd show up just in time, and using public transportation means that I will. Except of course when I'm late, in which case I'll often arrive shortly before the beginning of the lecture anyway.
Let me just reemphasize it: I don't like being late, I get stressed when I do, and I hate being stressed. Flash back to a morning in January 2007.
Yes, I am of course going to be late and miss the train.
It only takes about five minutes to walk from where I live to the station, going through the park. A nice feature of the route is that I can usually tell how late I am. Saw the previous train arriving when I entered the park? I'm on time. And then there's a certain landmark where I know that if I can hear the train coming in, I can sprint the rest of the way and make it. That day was one of those days. Business as usual. I decide to run over the grass instead of staying on the paths as it should be a few seconds faster, even though the lovely weather of January means everything is kind of wet. I'm well aware and take care not to lose traction on the grass by going too fast, or slip on a spot of wet soil. It only takes about ten seconds or so.
"Phew, I guess the grass was more slippery than I'd thought, but I made it across just fine," I think to myself, giving myself a little mental pat on the back in recognition. All I have to do now is to go from the grass and back onto the asphalt path - turning a good 120 degrees in the progress - and run up to the station. Easy. There's a bit of muddy soil on the last part of the grassy area, though it doesn't give any problems.
Falling asleep yet? Sorry. It gets better now though. At this point - turning the corner onto the asphalt - it's as if the left and right part of my brain begin a dialogue, and out of nowhere I apparently gain a split personality for about half a minute.
"Woah, see that? Watch out!"
"Yeah... It's a little bit of muddy soil in the broken asphalt."
"Exactly! You might be unlucky, step right into it and fall."
"Oh come on. We just ran several steps on slippery ground and noting happened, right?"
"Right, but we'll be cutting the corner at high speed, so we'll have to tilt..." (Much like riding a bike.)
"I know that! You know, I'm sick of you acting like you're paranoid! Get a grip! Nothing is going to happen!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah! Look, we'll be fine. First of all, it's unlikely that we're even going to step in it, we might as well be using the other foot there, or be a little short and step just in front of it. And even if we do step in it, who says we're going to slip? It may be solid enough for all we know, and we'll blaze right past."
"You know what? Fine. You win. But I wash my hands of this."
"Oooh, careful now, we might run a risk. Bah! We'll make it just fine, and you're going to be embarrassed that you're stupid enough to worry about such insignificant things as a little puddle of mud."
Oh yes, I step perfectly into it.
"Hey, what's happening?!"
"Well, we're kind of hanging in the air here..."
"Dude, cool! We're hanging in the air, slow-motion style, totally aware."
"Sure, but I have a feeling it won't last very long. And you know what they say: Flying is easy..."
"...landing is hard."
Ouch.
I've nearly fallen face-down into the asphalt, mostly landing on the left side (which makes sense, since it's a left turn and I slipped with my right foot). I push myself up. The train is slowing down - there isn't really time for this. I do a preliminary damage report. I was fortunate it was cold that day, because without my gloves I would probably have shredded my hands pretty badly. They fine, no bruises, just a bit of residual soreness from taking the impact. I look down. The coat is a bit messy, but otherwise doesn't seem to have taken any damage either. However, the jeans are messy and there's a big hole on the left knee.
"Dammit!"
"I told you it would happen, stupid! I TOLD YOU!"
"..."
"Idiot."
I keep going, catch my train and sit down. It isn't really until then that I realize - maybe if there's a big hole in my jeans, I may have bruised my knee? I take a closer look and see... blood. Ugh, I hate seing blood. It starts hurting too, a sensation I'll become familiar with during the rest of the day as I'll try to lift the jeans away from the wound to make it hurt less. Although the worst was over after a few days, and I could walk normally after two weeks or so, part of the wound still remains now, a year later.
Oh yeah. And the bus was late, so it didn't even matter if I had taken that train or the next one. Yay. Trust me though, I respect those devious muddy places now.
Zyxess - Home /
Level up / Section index /
To top.
This page was last updated: Sunday, 16-Mar-2008 13:14:46 CET