Waterloo (where the hell am I) Station.

At 7pm last night I found myself wandering around the Waterloo (where the hell am I) Station. My train failed to stop at the Petone station, where Mum was waiting to pick me up, so I jumped off at the next stop, and proceeded to freak the hell out.

The guy sitting next to me on the train laughed when he heard me explaining the mistake to Mum on the phone, and as I was leaving he waved me off with a cheery “Good luck!” as if to say “you’ll need it!”

And so I found myself in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. There were no shops, no recognisable landmarks, and no easily read maps.

At a time like that, in a deserted place like that, you start to ask yourself a few questions. For example:

  • Where the hell is Waterloo, am I still even in Wellington?
  • Why didn’t the train stop at Petone?
  • Why does this map have no street names?
  • Does my Mum know where Waterloo is?
  • Why do I continue to use public transport late at night in strange suburbs? It always ends in disaster.
  • Public transport in general ends in disaster for me. Why is that?
  • Where are all the people?
  • Was that an axe-murderer?
  • Was that a rapist?
  • Or a monster of some sort?
  • Perhaps a ghost?
  • How was it again that you’re supposed to get out of a bear hug from an insane ghost vampire homeless man carrying an axe?
  • Will my flatmates even realise that I didn’t come home tonight?
  • Or tomorrow night?
  • Will they think I’m just late at the gym?
  • Why am I allowed out in public on my own?

When I set out from work at 5.30pm I really did think I’d be in Petone by 6pm. So did Mum. Instead I was in Waterloo (Seriously WHERE THE HELL IS WATERLOO ANYWAY) station hoping against all hope that my cellphone still had money on it – because generally in these public-transport-gone-awry situations I don’t have any money, and my phone battery is inching closer and closer to death.

The most help I could offer Mum in finding me, was to cross a river, and follow either a 86, 85, or 84 bus to the bus exchange. She hung up on me and instead called someone who could actually help.

By that time I’d found myself a lovely lady who took me by the arm and lead me to the map and explained my location like she thought I was particularly deficient in the brain department. Then she pointed out the street that my Mum needed to look for, before patting me on the arm and toddling back to her bus stop. I couldn’t thank her enough.

Evidently I need to carry a small lady who can read maps and has knowledge of the Wellington public transit system in my handbag.

Mum found me eventually, and we drove back to her place. She’s got quite a cute little flat, with a view over the whole harbour, it’s all quite pretty lit up at night. We had dinner and desert, and a glass of wine together before she dropped me back home – evidently she didn’t trust me to be able to negotiate the bus system back to Miramar. 

So there you have it. I am a total dork when it comes to public transport.

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7 thoughts on “Waterloo (where the hell am I) Station.

  1. I’ve totally made that mistake before!

    Thank god I’m not the only one! Did you manage to have a functioning cellphone with you at the time? Because I did 🙂 (for once)

  2. That’s why I don’t use the train by myself. I can negotiate buses fine, but only in areas that I’m familiar with.

    When I do occasionally leave the city it’s in a car :]

    Busses are cool, because if they don’t stop you can ask the driver why…

  3. I had to giggle at this a little. But if it makes you feel any better, I’m totally bad with that stuff myself. I’m geographically challenged.

    Ha! me too! You’d think my friends and family would ave learntby now to come to me, rather than have me waste an hour and a half of their time by going to where I think they might be.

  4. Seriously, did you find out why the train didnt stop? Do you need to push a button or something? I thought the trains always stopped at every station! So glad I dont have to do public transport!

    Erm, yup, aparantly it was an express train, and the clue that would have given that away was the scrolling bit along the board saying “Stopping at all stations from Waterloo onwards.” Of course I didn’t read that bit, so it doesn’t count…

  5. I run into these situations as well…In fact I too am often at the mercy of axe-wielding homeless men who want to give me bear hugs, and in my case alcohol is usually a factor too, which as you can guess, doesn’t really help in the “steering clear of the axe” department…sigh, I should not be let out after dark.

    If I’m going out drinking I try to take a flatmate with me – then I just follow them onto the right bus and home when were done. That usually negates the need for me to avoid homeless men. And axe murderers.

  6. I got a birthday card for my 21st, and it had a little card part you took off it for you to write your name address and contact person which you pin onto your top so people can guide you home at the end of the night. Perhaps you need one perminently?

    That does seem like a good idea (for drinking nights that is…)

  7. I’ve never lived anywhere big enough to have public transportation, except for a while when I lived in Raleigh. But I’ve always had to own a car or some sort of motorized vehicle to get my ass around. I’m pretty good at figuring how to get places as long as I have a map, and usually even when I don’t. But for some reason every time I do end up on public transportation I get loster than hell, and in a hurry. I am not a big fan.

    Yeah, I’m fine in a car, because I can just re-trace my steps. Unfortunately I don’t own one these days, although I’d really like to. It would be a rust bucket that wouldn;t start on cold mornings and I’d love it to pieces.

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