Travelling to Lagos without preparing for any unforeseen happening is one of the biggest mistakes ever. That is what I did a few months back and it was an experience I wish never to repeat.
I had received a call to come down to Lagos as soon as possible to meet with a man who will say whether or not I can still join a programme which is already underway. It is more or less an interview. I decided to dress to kill. But alas, I “killed” no one but myself.
As early as 5.30 am, I was on my way to Lagos. Oh, let me give you a rundown of what I wore. A red scarf, black shirt, red and black checked skirt and a killer heel, black, classy, sexy heel. I felt like a star while I was walking to the stop at Berger where my in law dropped me off. People were looking at me and I could perceive the bitter smell of jealousy from the females and the sweet heady scent of admiration from the males. What is more, I could see some drooling and even the agberos were falling over themselves to help me. I floated through all these with my head in the air and a bored look on my face, just to show I am used to it.
When I got to the destination of the meeting, the security guards stood up and treated me with utmost courtesy, they struggled to upgrade their standard of spoken English to be worthy of speaking to me. I was impressed. I was high on myself.
Unfortunately for me, I was told that admission into the programme is closed but cowed my “chicness” and the vulnerable look I gave him, the man quickly referred me to somewhere else. He apologized profusely for not being able to drive me over but he called ahead to inform them that “ a very impressive young lady is coming”.
Still on a roll, I took it as an opportunity to show off myself to the people of Lagos. So off I went. I was to stop at Oshodi and take a cab to Ikeja. At the Oshodi Bustop, I started filling the pinch at my toes. I kept resting my weight alternately on each foot. I thought “hey, being cool comes with some sort of pain, you gotta handle it girl!”.
Ten minutes, twenty, thirty… I was still there. No cab to Ikeja. If I had known I would have taken one of the first rickety buses that came by, but I was “forming big girl”. IF I had known. It got to a point, I almost went on my knees to beg God to send me a “keke”, anything, just anything to relive me of my pain.
Eventually, a white bus pulled up. If you could have seen the way I jumped in! By the time I got to the office, I was limping and my face was haggard. And you know Lagos people, “they no send”. if you like, “die for road”. In the man’s office, I sat without invitation and kicked off my tortuous shoes. Ahhh! The relief of wiggling my toes. You need to see the look on the man's face. It was epic.
When I could eventually get myself together, I made a miserable attempt to redeem my image. Fortunately for me, the meeting was a success.
If you have any story you want me to publish for you, please send to my mail abiodunmayam@yahoo.com
I had received a call to come down to Lagos as soon as possible to meet with a man who will say whether or not I can still join a programme which is already underway. It is more or less an interview. I decided to dress to kill. But alas, I “killed” no one but myself.
As early as 5.30 am, I was on my way to Lagos. Oh, let me give you a rundown of what I wore. A red scarf, black shirt, red and black checked skirt and a killer heel, black, classy, sexy heel. I felt like a star while I was walking to the stop at Berger where my in law dropped me off. People were looking at me and I could perceive the bitter smell of jealousy from the females and the sweet heady scent of admiration from the males. What is more, I could see some drooling and even the agberos were falling over themselves to help me. I floated through all these with my head in the air and a bored look on my face, just to show I am used to it.
When I got to the destination of the meeting, the security guards stood up and treated me with utmost courtesy, they struggled to upgrade their standard of spoken English to be worthy of speaking to me. I was impressed. I was high on myself.
Unfortunately for me, I was told that admission into the programme is closed but cowed my “chicness” and the vulnerable look I gave him, the man quickly referred me to somewhere else. He apologized profusely for not being able to drive me over but he called ahead to inform them that “ a very impressive young lady is coming”.
Still on a roll, I took it as an opportunity to show off myself to the people of Lagos. So off I went. I was to stop at Oshodi and take a cab to Ikeja. At the Oshodi Bustop, I started filling the pinch at my toes. I kept resting my weight alternately on each foot. I thought “hey, being cool comes with some sort of pain, you gotta handle it girl!”.
Ten minutes, twenty, thirty… I was still there. No cab to Ikeja. If I had known I would have taken one of the first rickety buses that came by, but I was “forming big girl”. IF I had known. It got to a point, I almost went on my knees to beg God to send me a “keke”, anything, just anything to relive me of my pain.
Eventually, a white bus pulled up. If you could have seen the way I jumped in! By the time I got to the office, I was limping and my face was haggard. And you know Lagos people, “they no send”. if you like, “die for road”. In the man’s office, I sat without invitation and kicked off my tortuous shoes. Ahhh! The relief of wiggling my toes. You need to see the look on the man's face. It was epic.
When I could eventually get myself together, I made a miserable attempt to redeem my image. Fortunately for me, the meeting was a success.
If you have any story you want me to publish for you, please send to my mail abiodunmayam@yahoo.com
Where is the rest of the story now ?
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