I may offend many people when I say I didn’t set aside a single day to properly explore Copenhagen.

No sane person lands in Copenhagen and chooses not to explore it. I was apparently operating outside that category because I did this instead:

Copenhagen City (A) —>Jægersborg Dyrehave(B)—> Roskilde(C)—> Højerup(D)

One reason I didn’t prioritise exploring it was because everyone I spoke to described Copenhagen the same way: perfect. Everything worked. People were lovely. And their love affair with bicycles seemed stronger than ever. (I am still emotionally more ‘attached’ to my legs than a bicycle for anything within a 5-kilometre radius.)

It was around 2 p.m. when I landed at Copenhagen Airport. I purchased a one-way metro ticket and headed towards the station. My goal was simple: reach Hotel Nebo, my accommodation for the night, located conveniently within walking distance of København H, Copenhagen Central Station.

How difficult could that be, right?

Usually, life gives you two directions. One train goes out of the airport towards the city. The other comes from the city into the airport.

Simple.

But that day, I couldn’t have confidently told you the difference between the sun and the sea.

My head was all over the place. I had lost my sense of direction, lost the will to speak to anyone (though, to be fair, that part isn’t entirely unusual), and possibly lost a small but important portion of common sense. Maybe it was my first time flying into another European country outside Ireland, mixed with anticipation, anxiety, and low-grade self-inflicted confusion.

The Plan: Take M2 to Kongens Nytov. Change at Kongens Nytov. Take M4 to København H.

Total estimated time: 15 minutes.

Start at A, change at B, and get off at C

The Result:

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I took the M2, right on schedule.

After a few minutes, I got off at Christianshavn. Another train approached the nearby platform right next to the one I had just stepped off.

I got in. “Next stop København H,” I thought excitedly.

The metro was packed. I stretched my right hand upward to grab the overhead rail and stood there, quietly pleased with my efficiency.

Then, after crossing two platforms, my eyes finally landed on the display screen, previously hidden behind a wall of commuters.

Final destination: Københavns Lufthavn.

That didn’t seem right.

And by this point I knew very well what “Lufthavn” meant.

I was on the wrong train. I was going back towards the airport.

I shook my head at my own stupidity and I got off at next stop—Øresund.

“No problem, Raj,” I muttered to myself. “You’ll just catch the next M2, get off at Kongens Nytorv, and continue like the functioning adult you were raised to be. It’s not like you have a flight to catch. And surely, you are not lost. Metros are basically loops.”

This time I not only got off at Christianshavn again, I ended up boarding the wrong metro entirely—M1. The train wasn’t even going towards the airport. The vibe inside also felt different. There were fewer airport faces. Less luggage. More people who looked like they actually knew where they were going.

Now it was time to panic. Surely you are not lost.

For God’s sake, I had survived four brutal years of an Electronics and Communication Engineering degree. How hard could this be? There were literally two directions.

By then, however, my brain had quietly resigned.

I tried to mentally gather myself and decided to get off wherever the train stopped next.

I followed the same routine: moved to the other line, queued behind other commuters, and waited for the M1 going the opposite direction.

This time I gathered enough courage to actually ask a fellow commuter before boarding.

Eventually, I made it to Kongens Nytorv.

There, I took a few moments to mentally reset, gather what remained of my dignity, and follow every sign with the obedience of a man who had been humbled by public transport. I even asked multiple commuters where the M4 would stop, despite already knowing perfectly well where it would stop.

Before boarding the M4, I confirmed yet again with another passenger that this train did, in fact, go to København H.

Thankfully, during the ride, my attention soon shifted to another detail: nobody was driving the train.

Only then did peace begin to return.

No driver. No operator. Just a fully automated metro gliding through Copenhagen with far more confidence than I had displayed all afternoon.

Finally, I arrived at the correct station—København H.

And as soon as I stepped out, I was greeted by something that genuinely stopped me in my tracks.

Bicycles.

Not just bicycles.

Double-decker bicycle parking.

I had heard somewhere that Copenhagen had more bicycles than people.

Standing there, after successfully turning a 15-minute metro journey into a minor personal crisis, I was finally prepared to believe it.

How I Turned a 15-Minute Metro Ride Into a Personal Crisis