Public transportation- adapt or die

So it's not QUITE that serious, but seriously, I need to figure this out.

There was an absolutely fantabulous website that allows to me apply my home address, the address of wherever I'm going, and the time I want to get there and the site tells me what time to get to the bus, which train to take, and how much walking I will have to do.
This is a serious lifesaver...
...until I read the time wrong....
I recalled that I had to be at the bus station at 9:27am (which isn't even an option), and I decided to jog my memory this morning at 9am only to discover that the bus I wanted leaves at 9:12am...
Now I am far from a quick moving morning person, so the following information should impress you: I went from a hot mess in pajamas not wearing make up to a hot mess completely dressed in make up in approximately 11 minutes...
...I made it to the bus stop at 9:14am.
The next bus is set to arrive at 9:32am, and if I have done my math right [which I have, because my success in Calc I represents mathematical confidence, my failure in Calc II only represents my lack of extreme mathematical confidence] I should still arrive at the train station in time to hop on the 9:43am train to Kopenhaven H.
At the train station I nearly walk in front of a moving train- luckily the Danes are not ones to inquire after your safety and ask you if you're okay so I successfully avoid the awkward conversation of "Just being a silly American who is obviously a bit unaware of her surroundings and willing to risk life and limb just to get on the damn train to Copenhagen."
In the station the train tells me it is going to a far off and magical sounding land that I shan't repeat here for that would ruin it's majestic power, and I can't remember it, and even if I could remember it I would never be able to spell it...so my first instinct is to not board.
Then a screen tells me it is indeed going to Kopenhaven H.
I trust the screen, hop on the train, and pray a little bit.

I WAS RIGHT.
It's a very satisfying feeling.

I get off the train and realize that I once again have no idea where I am going.
I spy a girl wearing a DIS [my study abroad institution's initials] and stalk follow her until I creep up to catch up with her at a red light.
Arrive at the orientation and FINALLY meet up with fellow Denmark traveler, Samantha ( http://copenhagenorbust.wordpress.com/ ).
We sit conspicuously by ourselves and talk as if it has been years since our last meeting.
The Royal Danish Musicians Orchestra  (or something like that) play for us in between speakers- my favorite piece being Yellow Submarine. [I would give the artists credit, but if you seriously do not recognize the song then you need to look it up and crawl out from under the rock you inhabit anyways. Hellloooo classic pop culture.]
Samantha and I decide to try and find our institution's buildings without a map.
We find a variety of shops and cafes instead.
After spending some Kroner [and a yet to be determined amount of US dollars] on some lunch, we decide to break out the map.
After breaking out the map we still manage to walk in a very large rectangle around the buildings that we seek so hard to find.

We eventually stumble upon the elusive buildings and attend a workshop entitled "How not to meet Danes."
Apparently, Danes are like the ketchup in a class bottle...you have to beat on them in order to gain their friendship...or something like that.

We stroll aimlessly and enjoy a latte while we wait for our other fellow traveler, Callie, to finish with her day's scheduled fun.

LOUD REUNION IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET.
I can feel the quiet eyes of the quiet Danes judging us.

We proceed to wander aimlessly and happen upon a lonely Irish pub that desperately seeks our loving attention.
We enjoy our first LEGAL pub beers and talk for a small chunk of forever+some.
We compare host families and discuss our enjoyment of the average height of the attractive male Dane [taller than I] and the ability of an accent, even when you're in their country, to charm you silly. (we also discuss RC gossip and our Christmas break adventures, but I would never dare to divulge that information.)

And this is where my second fight for public transportation begins.
After some misguided and nippy walking, we find our train station.
It closes at 8pm for construction.
We find a bus to the next nearest station.
Take a train one more station south.
Desperately read screen after screen in an attempt to find Helsingor as a destination on any train.
Find my train across the street.
Part ways with Samantha and Callie as they are headed in a different northern-ish direction.
Wait for my train.
Wait for my train.
My toes go numb.
I see a train that says it is going to Helsingor!
I huff up that escalator and cross to the other platform and fling myself onto the firmly stopped train as fast as my frozen little sausage toes will allow.
My wonderful, beautiful, and fantastically understanding host mother meets me at the train station because there are no more buses after a certain time (I need to look into this).

As I miraculously find my way home, and Samantha finds her way home, Callie finds her way to a bus stop an hours walk from her house, where the bus driver tells her she must get off.
But not to worry, my avid readers, it is not necessary to be swept up in the anxiety of her travels!
Her host mother is with her or on her way to retrieve her this very minute!

You see I wasted no time in blogging today's events.
It is an excellent way to wind down from an adventurous first day in Copenhagen.
Well, that and watching a British reality television show about flamboyant and feisty dancers.

1:45am Denmark
7:45pm United States.