Hey there Nostalgians.
The following events took place on Sunday, 7th April, 2013 between the hours of 7 and 11am. The following events are not fiction.
It’s been a glorious weekend. My homie, Bayo got married to his college sweetheart, Tope yesterday morning… (´⌣`ʃƪ). I went to sleep and woke up with the glaring reminder in mind that I’m not getting any younger and need to start thinking more seriously about settling down with a bride of my own and creating a few cute little toxics. No pressure, of course, but still…
[02.15h to take-off]
As my mind keeps churning these thoughts around my head, I settle my backside gingerly unto the plastic seat of the ceramic receptacle and release the stress that has built up in my innermost man over the night. This happens without incident which is good considering that very suspicious twinge of a taste in that asaro I had the previous evening. It was delicious, but I was more than just a bit suspicious that I was confusing a taste of slight offness for deliciousness. However, my options were limited so I indulged.
Stress relieved, it is time to shower, pack and proceed to the park to head back to Lagos. The bride’s brother is due to come pick my buddy, Chima, and I at 8am and it would be impolite to keep him waiting. Besides, I have a pile of friday’s undone work I need to get to the office to sort out as soon as we arrive Lagos, so obviously, the earlier the better.
[00.40h to take-off]
It’s 8.20am now, I hear a soft knock on the door. It’s Oluchi, the very nice girl I met yesterday. We got talking after the wedding and it turned out she was also Lagos bound this morning so it only made sense we roll together, right? Yeah, same thing I thought.
Chima and I check out of the hotel and we all pile into Dayo’s (the bride’s brother’s) car. Yay, we’re headed to the park. Lagos, here we come (back)!
[00.15h to take off]
Chima, Oluchi and I are settled into the back row of the little Sienna. Timing is looking good. In about 3hrs, we should arrive Lagos. That would be about noon. Good. Good.
[0.03h to take-off]
The driver begins jumps into his seat and starts the engine when I hear a soft but urgent whisper from my innermost man. He’s saying…
“You should certainly not be seated here on this bad upholstery of this mini-van. You should be seated on a plastic seat much like that of the ceramic receptacle of this morning.”
Worst. Timing. Ever.
The old model Sienna leaps reluctantly into the road and the driver practically has to nudge it from the car park to the filling station down the road. I’m a little concerned about the state of the vehicle but greatly concerned about the different voices my innermost man is beginning to speak to me in to warn me of impending doom. I contemplate telling the driver I have to come down now but I’m concerned about how foolish I’d look. Plus, I no know anywhere for Osogbo. Where I wan go?
The tank is filled up, the journey begins. I think to myself and to my innermost man…
“Eyss, notin do you jarey. Are you not a man? Three hours, ees nuffiin. Psshh!”
[00.30h after take-off]
“Jesus Christ of Nazareth, son of David, King of kings and Lord of lords, have mercy on me. Embarass not thine son in the land of the wicked. You have promised in your word that I shall not dash my foot against a stone, nor block my yansh upon a bus. All weapons fashioned against me shall not prosper…”
My innermost man, on the other hand, is screaming curses at me. He is reminding me of all my most recent misdemeanors and how he does not deserve this punishment on my behalf. I had called in sick on friday at the office to make this trip… “Running tummy” was the excuse. Surely, this was payment for that. More directly, I had suspected the taste of that asaro, why I had I gone ahead and eaten the yam pottage?
(Aside: if you think that should be ‘yam porridge’, you’re a putrifying sack of depreciated olodo)
[01.00 after take-off]
“I’M GOING TO DIIIIEEEEEEE!!!”
Well, my innermost man has concluded, who am I to dissent? I mean, how am I supposed to put up with two more hours of this shit? Nah, I kent. Ees nor porzibu. I’m sweating profusely, tapping my feet, clenching and unclenching my butt, tears are on the brink of falling from my eyes and I’m speaking in unknown tongues, all in attempt to ‘contain myself’… It’s not working.
“Ejo, taa ba de filling station, joo ba mi ya. Mo fe lo toilet”
“Se ito abi iyagbe?”
Good Lord. This dude is from hell. Like it’s not bad enough that I just announced to the whole vehicle that I need to go to the toilet, he needs me to categorically state exactly what business I need to transact there… *sigh*
This is quite likely among the top5 most embarassing moments of my entire life.
[01.15h after take-off]
We roll to a stop and I all but dive out the car after grabbing the roll of toilet paper I, thankfully, remembered to bring along. In case of emergencies. One of which presented itself a little over an hour ago.
I run to the fuel attendants, they point me in the direction of heaven and I race towards my salvation… Only to be assaulted with the most disturbing excuse for a w.c. I’ve seen in a long, long while… But it’s still heaven. I dash inside, lock the door and proceed to do a little jig to keep shut the sphincter that is threatening to let loose all hell before my belt and zipper can get out of the way into heaven.
I assume the position. Finally.
All hell breaks loose.
I see heaven and it is beautiful. I look behind me to see the hellish devastation that my innermost man has unleashed on this place and I am well pleased.