I like to think that I am good at planning things. It is, after all, my job. And there is plenty of empirical evidence, you know actual hard facts, to back up this rather boastful claim.
There are, for example, countless examples of trips away with mates where I have come up with the idea in the first place, sorted out travel arrangements and practically packed people's bags for them. Yes, there was that incident where, having done all of the above, I forgot to take my wallet. But I like to consider that as an isolated incident and besides, it could've been a lot worse. At least we were only in Oslo and not the Amazon. Not a that a credit card would've been much use in deep jungle but there are McDonald's everywhere. Right?
So planning is my thing. Or at least I thought it was until today.....
It was an easy enough mistake to make. Being Sunday, the day most runners go for their long run, we'd arranged to meet a friend at a nearby station. In fact the station closest to their house and only a short twenty minute journey for us. From there we were going to do a gentle 18km run around Onehunga ending back up at the station. Simple.
The train was slightly late, but only a couple of minutes or so, so I was still convinced we would be there first. Let's say promptness is not on everyone's priority list. As the train pulled into the station I saw that my predictions were correct. No friend. It was then I realised my mistake. I didn't specify where in the station and this particular one had two separate platforms. Doh! Never mind we'd just check them both out....
Empty. Both of them. "Typical," I thought to myself, "I'd better check my phone to make sure she'd not backed out and decided to have a lie in."
But no new messages. "Hhmmm," I pondered, "I'd better check the original message to make sure it was 9am...."
"Oh!," I quietly exclaimed before promptly going quiet.
"What is it? Is she ok?"
"Errr she's fine, she's just at different station...," I replied, my voice trailing off.
"Well how's that happened?" came the response.
Before I explain, it's was an easy mistake to make. Especially when you consider that, before selecting this route, I had a number of different options and permutations in my head. When you look at it that way, I'm surprised I only got it a bit wrong...
You see, and I'm sure she will see the funny side of it eventually, I simply got Penrose mixed up with Panmure. I know, virtually identical aren't they! Both start and end with the same letter. And hey, they even both have an 'n' in there as well. It must happen all the time! It's just a shame that Penrose, where we were supposed to meet, happened to be a five minute walk from her house and Panmure was a good 5 miles away. As the crow flies.
No matter, this could be fixed. I was a project manager after all. After a quick call and email to let her know we were fine and not to worry, we jumped on the next train and headed up the line to where we could catch a connecting train. We'd be there in no time. Yup, a quick change in Westfield, hopefully with time to grab a coffee or light snack, and we'd soon be at our new alternative destination.
Unfortunately Westfield station didn't quite have the facilities we were hoping for. No cafe, not even a snack machine. In fact whilst we're on it, no seats, shelter or toilets. It was so basic I was actually surprised that there was a platform and that trains actually stopped in preference to getting you to alight by jumping for your life. Westfield, and I'm being generous here, was nothing more than an afterthought of a station in the middle of an industrial estate. For those who have had the pleasure of travelling with Northern Rail, think Allens West but without the character.
At least we wouldn't have long to wait....
But we would. This was New Zealand on a Sunday. The next train was not for another 45 minutes. There was nothing for it. We'd have to call a taxi. At this point our concern for our stranded friend had waned and we were more than a little concerned for our safety. Not from physical violence, you understand, but from being flattened by one of the many heavy goods vehicles that were scooting around, seemingly oblivious to two oddly underdressed people loitering on the street corner.
Our concern for our own wellbeing was heightened further when the taxi dispatcher stated she hadn't heard of such a station adding, "Are you sure - is there a platform?" After finally establishing that I wasn't deranged or sending them on a wild goose chase for the hell of it, a taxi was duly dispatched and it would be there "Within five minutes". Predictably, the taxi arrived just as the train pulled into the station.
Another running route was hastily arranged en-route, along with a dozen or so grovelling apologies and mental note of the nearest accident and emergency centre just in case I needed to get a Garmin watch surgically removed. But being such a nice person I wasn't greeted with a barrage of expletives but with apologies; for not realising I was an idiot and for not suggesting I'd got the stations mixed up. I know, remarkable.
"I did think it was a bit random!," she said before adding, "It's not the easiest place to get to."
I was about to comment that at least she had a shelter for her hour wait but thought better of it. I was quite attached to my Garmin watch after all.
Fortunately the new route was a success and although not half as convenient as the original, once we'd left the busy highway, we were treated to a serene run along Half Moon Bay. Plus an opportunity to nick some lemons and oranges from an abandoned tree. Or at least it looked like it was. Honest. Victory was definitely snatched from the jaws of defeat.
I'll let you decide the moral of the story; whether it's don't accept instructions blindly, always have an exit strategy or all blokes are idiots - even those who seem to know what they're doing. I'm sure you'll have an opinion, although I rather think it'll be the latter.
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