Damn you, Tafe!
So... today was a chore. Especially this morning. I spent all afternoon recovering. o.o
Dad woke me up at a quarter to six, and we got dressed and ate breakfast and all that stuff you do in the morning. I grabbed my bag of things for my first day at Tafe and Mum drove us to the bus-stop. We arrived at the same time as the bus, so we had to rush our goodbyes and run to get on it. We took it to Petrie train station, and luckily managed to get one of the peak-hour express ones that has only two stops between Petrie and Brisbane Central, so the journey was relatively quick. Of course, we were standing almost the entire way, so it seemed longer.
Just past Central, we got off and caught another bus to the Ithaca campus. After a bit of wondering where we were, we found the front desk and I FINALLY managed to get a student ID card and figure out what the heck 5.3.22 meant. It turns out I was right in my guess, by the way. xD
We found my first classroom and Dad said goodbye, and we agreed what we would do at five for the journey home, since I now knew it one way but not the other. We also discovered my absolutely rubbish phone, that had claimed it was on full battery, was dead and refused to turn on, so my only form of communication was unusable. Anyway, Dad left and I waited at the classroom for anyone else to arrive.
Half-an-hour later, I'm still waiting and wondering what the crap is going on. My timetable says I'm at the right time, place and date, and the sign on the door even confirmed the right teacher and general subject matter. It's approaching what's supposed to be half-an-hour into the lesson and nothing's happened at all. Eventually, a guy walks past and asks if I'm waiting for someone, so I explain what's going on and show him my timetable. He says he's sure classes are supposed to be starting next week, and shows me roughly where the help desk in this building is before leaving me stranded.
Problem, I can't find said helpdesk. Luckily, I'm thrown another bone as some other guy appears and asks if I need help. He apparently had a similar problem as he tells me exactly what to do and where the desk is, so I thank him and go up to the desk. I show the lady my timetable and explain again, and she says the dates were changed and trades my timetable in for a new one with the correct dates. I thank her and wander off.
Okay, now what do I do? I could waste all day sitting in the empty canteen drawing until Dad comes back at five, or I could somehow find my way back home despite not knowing bus numbers or train numbers, nor do I really know Brisbane City that well.
So I decide to head home.
The first part is relatively easy. As Dad hadn't travelled that part of the route before either, I had a copy of the timetable and the bus numbers I could take to get back to Roma Street where we'd got on. Once there, I got off instead of waiting to see if the bus stopped near Central and looked around for the train station.
Problem again, where is it? Luckily, there was one of those tourist-y help signs with a map on it, which seemed to say that Roma Street Station was in the middle of the buildings. Um, how do I get there? I can also see Central station, and it seems to be on the street and much easier to locate. I make another decision and decide to head to Central. I walk up and it is covered in helpful signs that point me to the trainline back to Petrie.
I follow a couple of skateboard-carrying boys to Platform 6 and wait another half-hour. Finally, my train arrives, off-peak and thus slow, and I start on the long train journey back. It stops at every station on the way and takes a long time, but at least I can finally sit down again. Once at Petrie, I get off and walk out to find the bus station.
Problem number three, which one takes me home? On the timetable are about four different final destinations, but I don't really know the area outside North Lakes so I have no idea which would pass it, let alone continue up Discovery Drive to where I live. Luckily, there seems to be an hourly service that ends at the Westfield at North Lakes, so I decide that's my only choice. Only thing is, I have to wait another half-hour or so for it to arrive, and it doesn't seem likely it will continue up Discovery Drive.
The bus arrives fifteen minutes early and parks in a corner, the driver telling everyone he'll leave at midday on time. This is incredibly annoying, seeing as I've spent so long already getting home, but I'm too stressed and tired to care so I let it go. We leave on time, and I ask the driver if the bus does end at the Westfield or continues on, and he says it ends there. I think that'll be the end of it, but he then tells me the trip'll take 45 minutes. I shrug and say okay, wondering why he told me that, when he lauches into an explanation to another lady he was chatting to before at the back. Apparently some lady once took his route as she worked at the Westfield, and ignored his advice to take another bus and was thus incredibly late. My knee-jerk reaction was 'oh, that explains it,' until I thought about it and realised it didn't explain a thing. If this journey had been planned, would I really have chosen to take the slowest bus there, let alone the last one to arrive? And obviously I was not working at the Westfield as I had JUST ASKED if the bus continued on PAST IT.
I'm half-asleep by the time the bus finally arrives at the Westfield, so I get off and orient myself with the school across the road. I had been planning to walk up the quicker route past the retirement village, as I still couldn't get the bus up, but the entrance that I thought would be easily spottable is nowhere to be seen.
Problem again.
I reluctantly decide walking up Discovery Drive is the only option. At least I find it after a bit of walking around pretty easily, which is a blessing. And, after the clouds hanging around all morning, the sun finally comes out, so it's blaring down on me in my leather jacket and heavy shoulder bag with nothing much to shade me along the road. Good thing I decided to bring my sunglasses, so sight isn't a problem at least.
I already know it takes about fifteen minutes to walk from home to the nearest bus-stop. From the Westfield, no idea. It's never been done, and for a reason. By the time I finally pass the final bus-stop (after looking at the signs as I passed, it was quicker to walk than wait for them, and I was proved right cuz I saw it pass as I turned the corner) I've got my leather jacket slung over my bag and I'm sweating like mad and I'm very very hot and tired. I also kept wanting to just stop and rest in the shade of those few trees I passed, but kept pushing myself to keep walking.
Finally, FINALLY, I turn into my street and walk through the door, wanting to just cry and complain about my awful morning to Mum.
Final problem. Mum's at the dentists.
Only the boys and Donnie were at home when I finally collapsed through the doorway. Donnie was very happy to see me, but the boys were (quite rightly) very confused. I dismissed them with "it's a long story" for when I felt less like I could burst into tears at ay moment and lay on the lounge to cool off with Donnie.
I guess I must have arrived home somewhere between 1 and 1:30. After a little while, the boys and I had lunch, watched an episode of Whose Line Is It Anyway and I told them the shortened version of my "long story", mainly because I felt they deserved it despite me still feeling stressed and teary. I barely got out that Tafe had changed the dates before deciding that was all they needed to know and shut up before I exploded.
When Mum got back from work at 2, Brother went out to greet her with Donnie (I was still resting inside) and told her what had happened. She came in looking for me and asking why Tafe had done such a thing and I never got a chance to thank Brother for taking the load of explaining again off me before I'd recovered fully. Huh.
Anyway, Mum rang Dad to tell him what had happened so he didn't try to pick me up at five, and Sisterling came home a couple of hours later (from a Torchwood marathon with a friend apparently) and didn't notice I was home for several minutes... Mum kept saying that at least I got the ID card, so train/bus fares will be halved for me now, so at least I got something out of today. Well, excepting the panel or two on the latest Squirrel Angels page, which only I knew about anyway. :)
Hey, my second book has an extra week to arrive in now! :D
Also, one last thing: Just after I finished my journal entry yesterday, I mentioned to Mum I didn't have a bag I could use for my Tafe things. She then produced two Amsterdam bags, one just larger than my Barcelona one and another the size of Sisterling's big one! Apparently they were being saved for my next birthday, so I'm not sure why Mum felt happy to let them go now. xD
Okay, that's all the complaining I need to get this horrific morning off my chest. o.o I can't thank God enough that it turned out okay in the end.
Dad woke me up at a quarter to six, and we got dressed and ate breakfast and all that stuff you do in the morning. I grabbed my bag of things for my first day at Tafe and Mum drove us to the bus-stop. We arrived at the same time as the bus, so we had to rush our goodbyes and run to get on it. We took it to Petrie train station, and luckily managed to get one of the peak-hour express ones that has only two stops between Petrie and Brisbane Central, so the journey was relatively quick. Of course, we were standing almost the entire way, so it seemed longer.
Just past Central, we got off and caught another bus to the Ithaca campus. After a bit of wondering where we were, we found the front desk and I FINALLY managed to get a student ID card and figure out what the heck 5.3.22 meant. It turns out I was right in my guess, by the way. xD
We found my first classroom and Dad said goodbye, and we agreed what we would do at five for the journey home, since I now knew it one way but not the other. We also discovered my absolutely rubbish phone, that had claimed it was on full battery, was dead and refused to turn on, so my only form of communication was unusable. Anyway, Dad left and I waited at the classroom for anyone else to arrive.
Half-an-hour later, I'm still waiting and wondering what the crap is going on. My timetable says I'm at the right time, place and date, and the sign on the door even confirmed the right teacher and general subject matter. It's approaching what's supposed to be half-an-hour into the lesson and nothing's happened at all. Eventually, a guy walks past and asks if I'm waiting for someone, so I explain what's going on and show him my timetable. He says he's sure classes are supposed to be starting next week, and shows me roughly where the help desk in this building is before leaving me stranded.
Problem, I can't find said helpdesk. Luckily, I'm thrown another bone as some other guy appears and asks if I need help. He apparently had a similar problem as he tells me exactly what to do and where the desk is, so I thank him and go up to the desk. I show the lady my timetable and explain again, and she says the dates were changed and trades my timetable in for a new one with the correct dates. I thank her and wander off.
Okay, now what do I do? I could waste all day sitting in the empty canteen drawing until Dad comes back at five, or I could somehow find my way back home despite not knowing bus numbers or train numbers, nor do I really know Brisbane City that well.
So I decide to head home.
The first part is relatively easy. As Dad hadn't travelled that part of the route before either, I had a copy of the timetable and the bus numbers I could take to get back to Roma Street where we'd got on. Once there, I got off instead of waiting to see if the bus stopped near Central and looked around for the train station.
Problem again, where is it? Luckily, there was one of those tourist-y help signs with a map on it, which seemed to say that Roma Street Station was in the middle of the buildings. Um, how do I get there? I can also see Central station, and it seems to be on the street and much easier to locate. I make another decision and decide to head to Central. I walk up and it is covered in helpful signs that point me to the trainline back to Petrie.
I follow a couple of skateboard-carrying boys to Platform 6 and wait another half-hour. Finally, my train arrives, off-peak and thus slow, and I start on the long train journey back. It stops at every station on the way and takes a long time, but at least I can finally sit down again. Once at Petrie, I get off and walk out to find the bus station.
Problem number three, which one takes me home? On the timetable are about four different final destinations, but I don't really know the area outside North Lakes so I have no idea which would pass it, let alone continue up Discovery Drive to where I live. Luckily, there seems to be an hourly service that ends at the Westfield at North Lakes, so I decide that's my only choice. Only thing is, I have to wait another half-hour or so for it to arrive, and it doesn't seem likely it will continue up Discovery Drive.
The bus arrives fifteen minutes early and parks in a corner, the driver telling everyone he'll leave at midday on time. This is incredibly annoying, seeing as I've spent so long already getting home, but I'm too stressed and tired to care so I let it go. We leave on time, and I ask the driver if the bus does end at the Westfield or continues on, and he says it ends there. I think that'll be the end of it, but he then tells me the trip'll take 45 minutes. I shrug and say okay, wondering why he told me that, when he lauches into an explanation to another lady he was chatting to before at the back. Apparently some lady once took his route as she worked at the Westfield, and ignored his advice to take another bus and was thus incredibly late. My knee-jerk reaction was 'oh, that explains it,' until I thought about it and realised it didn't explain a thing. If this journey had been planned, would I really have chosen to take the slowest bus there, let alone the last one to arrive? And obviously I was not working at the Westfield as I had JUST ASKED if the bus continued on PAST IT.
I'm half-asleep by the time the bus finally arrives at the Westfield, so I get off and orient myself with the school across the road. I had been planning to walk up the quicker route past the retirement village, as I still couldn't get the bus up, but the entrance that I thought would be easily spottable is nowhere to be seen.
Problem again.
I reluctantly decide walking up Discovery Drive is the only option. At least I find it after a bit of walking around pretty easily, which is a blessing. And, after the clouds hanging around all morning, the sun finally comes out, so it's blaring down on me in my leather jacket and heavy shoulder bag with nothing much to shade me along the road. Good thing I decided to bring my sunglasses, so sight isn't a problem at least.
I already know it takes about fifteen minutes to walk from home to the nearest bus-stop. From the Westfield, no idea. It's never been done, and for a reason. By the time I finally pass the final bus-stop (after looking at the signs as I passed, it was quicker to walk than wait for them, and I was proved right cuz I saw it pass as I turned the corner) I've got my leather jacket slung over my bag and I'm sweating like mad and I'm very very hot and tired. I also kept wanting to just stop and rest in the shade of those few trees I passed, but kept pushing myself to keep walking.
Finally, FINALLY, I turn into my street and walk through the door, wanting to just cry and complain about my awful morning to Mum.
Final problem. Mum's at the dentists.
Only the boys and Donnie were at home when I finally collapsed through the doorway. Donnie was very happy to see me, but the boys were (quite rightly) very confused. I dismissed them with "it's a long story" for when I felt less like I could burst into tears at ay moment and lay on the lounge to cool off with Donnie.
I guess I must have arrived home somewhere between 1 and 1:30. After a little while, the boys and I had lunch, watched an episode of Whose Line Is It Anyway and I told them the shortened version of my "long story", mainly because I felt they deserved it despite me still feeling stressed and teary. I barely got out that Tafe had changed the dates before deciding that was all they needed to know and shut up before I exploded.
When Mum got back from work at 2, Brother went out to greet her with Donnie (I was still resting inside) and told her what had happened. She came in looking for me and asking why Tafe had done such a thing and I never got a chance to thank Brother for taking the load of explaining again off me before I'd recovered fully. Huh.
Anyway, Mum rang Dad to tell him what had happened so he didn't try to pick me up at five, and Sisterling came home a couple of hours later (from a Torchwood marathon with a friend apparently) and didn't notice I was home for several minutes... Mum kept saying that at least I got the ID card, so train/bus fares will be halved for me now, so at least I got something out of today. Well, excepting the panel or two on the latest Squirrel Angels page, which only I knew about anyway. :)
Hey, my second book has an extra week to arrive in now! :D
Also, one last thing: Just after I finished my journal entry yesterday, I mentioned to Mum I didn't have a bag I could use for my Tafe things. She then produced two Amsterdam bags, one just larger than my Barcelona one and another the size of Sisterling's big one! Apparently they were being saved for my next birthday, so I'm not sure why Mum felt happy to let them go now. xD
Okay, that's all the complaining I need to get this horrific morning off my chest. o.o I can't thank God enough that it turned out okay in the end.