Monday morning in lagos as usual, is as crazy as it can get. This particular Monday, I had to push, pinch and shove my way to board the “molue” (bus) going to Ikeja. It’s a practical example of the survival of the fittest if you ever need one.
At first, after the triumph of finally getting a seat on the rickety bus, I took no notice of my co-passengers. I was too busy trying to reduce the rate at which the hard bench that served as a seat is abusing my skinny buttocks.
A few minutes into the journey, I felt an elbow jabbing into my right side. That was when I noticed the man sitting by my right
.
He was wearing a pink shirt with tiny stripes. The poor shirt was so starched that it stood away from his body as though it is made of wood. There was a huge sweat stain under his armpit and the collar was torn in places where It usually rubs against his neck, but it still stood at attention; the wonderous work of starch.
Guess what he was doing?
He was pulling out his nose hairs! (In public! On Monday morning!)
How do I fully describe his nose hairs to you? Let’s see.
If you have ever used an iron brush before, then you will get the picture. It looked like an old, tired iron brush with the strands spreading everywhere; strong and “unbendable”.
They were long, dark and fully matured; shooting out of his nostrils like palm fronds. And he was pulling then out with both hands (alternately)! Then when he gets one out, he would rub on the back of the seat before us.
I quickly shifted to the man in coat on my left. I said coat, not suit because I couldn’t feel any part of his shoulder or arm when I moved closer. It was only the enormous shoulder pad I felt.
Just then, mr Coat decided to comb his bushy, brown hair that was dripping with Vaseline and left over water from his shower. Can you believe he combed till he reached his stop? Maybe he felt he can comb away bad luck or why take so long?
I cringed each time he raises his hand to pass the unfortunate comb through that hair. Each time he does, the combination of what comes flying out is indescribable.
I just sat and wondered how insensitive some people can be. Even when I complained politely, they just looked at me like “is it your car? I paid my money so I can do as I damn well like!”
Most people are guilty of something like this; grooming themselves in public without considering the fact that they are not in their room.
Please people, when next you fail to fully get dressed and groomed before leaving your house, and you have no car, “abeg”(I’m stressing the “abeg”), wait till you reach your destination.
Another option is to stop by a bank and use the bank’s rest room. Nobody will kill you.
May you never encounter Mr Nose Hair, Mr Coat and Miss Make-up on your morning rides to work or school. Amen.
At first, after the triumph of finally getting a seat on the rickety bus, I took no notice of my co-passengers. I was too busy trying to reduce the rate at which the hard bench that served as a seat is abusing my skinny buttocks.
A few minutes into the journey, I felt an elbow jabbing into my right side. That was when I noticed the man sitting by my right
.
He was wearing a pink shirt with tiny stripes. The poor shirt was so starched that it stood away from his body as though it is made of wood. There was a huge sweat stain under his armpit and the collar was torn in places where It usually rubs against his neck, but it still stood at attention; the wonderous work of starch.
Guess what he was doing?
He was pulling out his nose hairs! (In public! On Monday morning!)
How do I fully describe his nose hairs to you? Let’s see.
If you have ever used an iron brush before, then you will get the picture. It looked like an old, tired iron brush with the strands spreading everywhere; strong and “unbendable”.
They were long, dark and fully matured; shooting out of his nostrils like palm fronds. And he was pulling then out with both hands (alternately)! Then when he gets one out, he would rub on the back of the seat before us.
I quickly shifted to the man in coat on my left. I said coat, not suit because I couldn’t feel any part of his shoulder or arm when I moved closer. It was only the enormous shoulder pad I felt.
Just then, mr Coat decided to comb his bushy, brown hair that was dripping with Vaseline and left over water from his shower. Can you believe he combed till he reached his stop? Maybe he felt he can comb away bad luck or why take so long?
I cringed each time he raises his hand to pass the unfortunate comb through that hair. Each time he does, the combination of what comes flying out is indescribable.
I just sat and wondered how insensitive some people can be. Even when I complained politely, they just looked at me like “is it your car? I paid my money so I can do as I damn well like!”
Most people are guilty of something like this; grooming themselves in public without considering the fact that they are not in their room.
Please people, when next you fail to fully get dressed and groomed before leaving your house, and you have no car, “abeg”(I’m stressing the “abeg”), wait till you reach your destination.
Another option is to stop by a bank and use the bank’s rest room. Nobody will kill you.
May you never encounter Mr Nose Hair, Mr Coat and Miss Make-up on your morning rides to work or school. Amen.
Lmho at combing away bad luck. What an experience that was, you meet all sorts when riding buses. I say the experiences one goes through when patronising the public transportation system in Lagos is enough to write an award winning, best seller novel!
ReplyDeleteLol.....but i think the "Miss make up" paragraph is missing
ReplyDelete