The Traffic Story

Hello there. Let’s skip the whole I’m sorry for not blogging part, I know you’ve missed me. Today I want to narrate a story- a story of you, assuming you don’t stay in Abuja, or Lagos either. For better effects let’s assume you stay in a calm, traffic free town- and you have a car. Well, if you don’t have a car it could be your story too, just a more melancholic version. You have an interview in Abuja for say 9am on Friday at say a place called ‘Garki 2’ (If you actually know where that is then this story isn’t about you either). So let’s get started on this biography, shall we?

So, you decide to leave for Abuja on Wednesday. It’s the Federal Capital for crying out loud, you’ve gotta groove it before the interview. Hopefully you get there by evening and get to hang out with a couple of your buddies. Next day you want to buy a new phone, someone directs you to Bannex or Emab plaza Wuse 2.  You have a rendezvous today in the evening, so you decide to go get the phone in the evening so you can from there link up with the rendezvous. Our story is just getting warmed up. You get to Wuse 2 and spend twenty minutes covering a distance you should have spent one minute on. Wow! So Abuja has hold ups? It looks cute to you at the moment… Be calm bro, the story goes on.

Phone bought, you head out to Post office road, Area 10. Why? Remember that rendezvous you have today? Yeah, that’s where you’re picking her. Let’s talk about her a lil’ bit. You met her on Badoo (I had to use the worst possible spot to meet a girl online- once again for better effects), you two got along well and have been in good rapport ever since. Distance has been barring you from reaping the fruits of your labour, but today is the day for alas, you two are finally in the same city. She tells you she works in Area 10 and the gentlemanly you offers to come pick her up. You were supposed to meet up by 5pm, but that darn Wuse 2 holdup nearly scrambled your punctuality plans. But hopefully, you might just be only a few minutes… Wait! What the heck? What’s that infront of me! Why aren’t the traffic lights being used! The hold ups aren’t looking so cute anymore, are they? After thirty minutes spent in a traffic jam that seemed to be caused by unruly, impatient drivers, faulty traffic lights and road traffic officers who obviously cared more about hiding from the sun than helping you get to your location on time, you finally get to her current location. Alas! There’s a bright spot to it all, our arbitrary Badoo babe is hot!

She is not mad you got late, she with sweet smiles tells you it’s ok. Where can we go and chill? You ask. She suggests a place, which is of no concern to this story… But wait, she remembers she wants to pick something up at Shoprite. Where is it? Apo. She of course directs you. You two are chatting fervently and then you look ahead and see what is ahead and it takes all the effort you can muster not to scream in frustration. No! Not again! Today is not just your day.

One hour later and you two finally escape the vicinity and then go to that hangout spot she suggested earlier that is no concern of ours. After a couple of drinks and sweet conversations, it’s time for her to go home. The gentleman in you offers to drive her home. Naturally, you two play that stupid game adults play whereby she says she won’t like to stress you out and you insist, back and forth it goes until you win. That gentleman part of you wouldn’t just stop screwing you over, would it? Where does she stay? Mararaba/Nyanya. Brother, this is the apex of our story- your story, I mean. Somewhere in hell, some hater demon of yours just yelled in triumph.

Some four hours later, an exhausted, sweat drenched and horribly traumatized you drives into our dear Badoo girl’s residence. That was probably the worst traffic jam you had experienced in your entire life (remember, we are assuming you have never been to Lagos). She invites you in. She stays alone, it might all have been worth it after all. Why go today? She notices your condition and suggests you spend the night at her place. Somewhere on your trouser, around your zipper, just bulges up. This story is going in a good direction again isn’t it- of course you have no idea she’s simply booking a free ride for the morrow. Again, it is irrelevant to our story what occurs during the night. But to maintain the path of the tale so far, let us assume a statement like “I’m on my period” or “Let’s not rush things” came up.

Tomorrow is that interview of yours that brought you to Abuja in the first place, remember? The memory of the traffic jam is still fresh in your head. You don’t want to take chances so you decide to wake up pretty early. By 6am you’re up and after getting refreshed and so on you depart the house by 6:30am. Remember that hater demon of yours? It seems he just won the lottery. By 7am you can still see in your rearview mirror where you were thirty minutes ago. By 8am you have started perspiring even though you’re AC is on, you look up to your rearview mirror and see clearly the filling station you passed by 7am. By 9am you are utterly speechless. 7am’s Petrol station is still showing when you stare up. Of course, your last night host-turned today’s passenger has switched in your sight from being pretty and cool to being ugly and devilish.

By 10:20, you finally pass the military checkpoint that signals the end of your traffic jam, but what’s the point? At this point we can only assume a couple of post events.

  • You dropped Miss Badoo at the next available bus stop.
  • Whoever asks you how your Abuja journey was on your return either gets a scornful look or a punch, depending on your mood or/and the asker.

Most Abuja peeps can relate to this.

Have a nice day ahead. 🙂 

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