Rafting, blood, formaldehyde, and loads of trains

Hello.
Fresh off of working at the Summer Series concert, I had to be one of the "testers" for our University raft test across the Auckland Harbour. We were in make or break territory, so we needed to give it our all. This time, we would have nine people in total, some with muscles of glory, and some with good senses of direction (except for me, as I was clearly an awesome mixture of both). Turns out that even with nine people and a rudder, we were still only able to forge 3/4 of the way across, mostly due to being pushed away from our goal by the currents. Damn currents. We seriously paddled for 3.5 hours, and 2 of those were spent trying to move forward with no success. If we had kept at it, all of us would have worn holes through our hands. I would like to note that when you are putting together YOUR volunteer raft team in the future, make the muscly people actually show you that they can use those guns, and they aren't just mounted above the mantle for a nice display. Before we had started, I was excited because we had two massive guys who looked like they'd be able to help us power through a river made of jello. Turns out that in practice, one was just massive (and made the raft almost cap size when he shifted sides) and the other one had massive guns that apparently could only fire a few weak rounds before he just sat there not paddling and was just dead muscly weight. Not impressed. We eventually had to be dragged out of the dead point we would have probably celebrated our 80th birthdays on, and were tossed close to the designated landing point under the bridge. Now, I had only been told of this "landing point," so in my mind, it was theoretical. Turns out that in real life, it was theoretical too, because we ran aground on stupidly placed underwater lava boulders (I mean come on, who left THOSE there!?) and all of the brave souls/ soles who had been smart enough to wear shoes that could be dipped into the salt water for over 5 seconds (so 3 people including me) were forced to jump raft and try to guide the monstrosity towards the sea wall with pure strength. Trying to avoid the novice's mistake of carbo loading before the paddle, I had only consumed a banana and stashed my lunch safely in the office fridge where I know that none of the nurses we share it with would ever dare to venture into my giant plastic bag with "Lucie" scrawled across the top in uneven serial killer writing. Turns out that being pretty hungry, tired, and having your legs all cramped up from being in a horrible position that left half of your but on fire (and not even numb like you wish) do not make a great combination for scurrying around submerged lava rock of doom, as I soon found out after I lost my footing and fell into the sea. This allowed my phone to test out how it would react to sea water while theoretically protected in a zip lock. Result: it dies and make a fizzling noise. Emerging from the sea a tired , bleeding hollow shell of a person, I stumbled back to the office carrying 8 life jackets after a hell of a taxi ride in rush hour city traffic. Really, all of this would have been a lot better of an experience had I been successful on my "I want to find a captain's hat" mission and if we had been listening to sea shanties the whole way across. I hear that those two things are responsible for the discovery of the new world.
Needles to say, I spent the next few days recovering from my sea dog day. After meeting up with some friends for dinner, I took the train back from the city to the hills with eyes that I live on (after my friend almost accidentally ran over my foot). What could have been just your run of the mill "9:30 pm depressing train ride commute" turned into something magical. And by magical I of course mean mysterious and disturbing. One stop into my journey home, I was joined in my seat bench by a small Asian women. Normal, right? Then, after a few seconds I was hit by an intense chemically smell. It smelled minty, but also like pine sol...and as I was racking my brain trying to place it, it was busy becoming more intense and starting to make my eyes water. HOW MYSTERIOUS! Well, it was mysterious until I finally realized that yes, I had in fact smelled that odour before....IN MY HUMAN ANATOMY LAB. This lady wreaked of formaldehyde. Ahhhhhhhhh. Images of the cadavers I had to learn from flashed through my head...which led me to then ponder what occupation this lady worked in where she would have to build up enough tolerance to the smell and then be able to greet others with it on the train. I am pretty sure that out of the whole train car of people, I was one of two who knew what that smell was. In conclusion, she probably works in a lab where they are creating a zombie army to overthrow the government...everywhere.
"My word Lucie, what other adventure could you possibly be enjoying on the train?" you asked with wide expectant eyes. Well, today was Saturday, which means it is the day that everyone who owns a car laughs at you, points, and yells "you suck" as you wait for the once every hour (if you're lucky) train to show up. This morning, I busted down the hill to the closest train station only to be greeted by the train turning up early and leaving as I hastily locked up my bike. Curses. After drowning my sorrows in a coffee and waiting for another hour gazing at the dirt hill opposite me, the next train arrives. Filled with a renewed sense of hope, I dash aboard and it back and relax...until after the train catches on fire at the second stop and we all get herded out. Curses. Luckily, after a few minutes an extremely vague announcement tells us that if we walk to this bus stop (and no, not the actual stop that a few people know about but actually that pole a couple blocks away) we will be picked up by taxis. Right. 40 plus people, some with kids in taxis? I followed the crowd to the pole, where a woman eagerly informed me that this happened to her last month, and it took the taxis over an hour to arrive. "Sod this." I trudged down the road to the next train station seeking a bus. Turns out that the only bus around was one that was going to take me on a nice tour of the surrounding suburbs for a half an hour before it finally dragged into the city. Fine. As long as we got there. Luckily that driver takes pity on me and gives me the child rate. Total time to get into the city: 3 hours. From the city, I hopped onto another train to go to a mall due East where a friend works in search of a good deal on a backpack. Scored that. Yes! But then, my eventual luck seemed to revert. My train back to the city was 20 min late, pushing me to sprint from that one to the next one, only to find that the next one was leaving ten minutes after the published time. Ha sweet. Relax. But then the number of people waiting to board the dark and shut train grew, and most of them started to shuffle their feet and groan. Ten minutes later, a bulbous train guy ambles done the line to inform us that the train is having a problem with its fuel. The train never moves, and I am informed that the next bus back home leaves in the same hour's time that the next train does. Curses. Score: Lucie: 1. Trains: -5768.
As I must head back to the city via a train tomorrow morning to work at a couple of crickets matches (and by work at I mean sit, read, picnic, and get bored...then repeat), I guess my luck with the trains can only improve. Hopefully. If not, then I might have to look into having a go at this rafting business a bit more seriously. Maybe if I could secure some zombies for crew mates....