Today was going to be a good day. Not only was it my first day as an actor, Sean was returning from his two week suspension from Nigerian Idol. I’m bad with roads you see, this is why I asked Sean who is well acquainted with all the nooks and crannies of Lagos to come with me.
Sean is the best road trip bud. He is melodramatic and does not suffer fools in Lagos traffic; instead, he conjures up hilarious Yoruba insults and gesticulates in a very matter-of-fact manner. Until I bothered him with persuasion, he was at first reluctant because he wanted to start on a clean slate post-suspension. Today was indeed going to be a good day.
We got off to a slow start because the drycleaner thought it was convenient to wait until we showed up at the mart to iron my clothes. He set us back by at least an hour – what an idiot. And in Lagos where movement is essential to life, leave it to traffic to ruin a perfectly planned day. Even a minute of lateness or miscalculation can devastate your entire day and if the gods are against you, your entire week. Lagos drivers are like lionesses, always on the prowl for when it’s best to jump into the road. One wrong move and the spoil is gone. This was the case; we lost hours on the road paying for the foolishness of the dry-cleaner.
Our plan was to get to the Nigerian Pop-Star studio, run to the Tinsel set during break, then head to the island to join Mr. Dane at the opening. Mr. Dane was my boss at Nigerian Pop-Star. He was bland as oatmeal without raisins and paranoid as a night guard on patrol. This made it hard to lie to him and otherwise.
I had a pool of lies from which I regularly convinced Sean to select. Some of them were backed-up with forged documents and altered photos. The other day for example, when Sean blamed his lateness on his forgotten inhaler, Mr Dane brought down the heavens. When he really did forget it, Mr Dane got him suspended. When we arrived at the studio 2hours late, we apologized and refrained from excuses he wasn’t going to buy anyway.
Shooting at Tinsel was a mess. We were at least 3hours overtime so we kept stalling on account of traffic. We were so late that a mere 6hour traffic lie could no longer hold water.
‘We just got hit sir. It’s horrible’
‘Really? What happened?’ his voice was brimming with sarcasm.
‘Yes sir. My bumper went off and Sean has a concussion but we are still making our way to the opening. Sorry for the delay’.
‘Okay. Take it easy’.
When we finally got to the opening, it was empty. They were done and so were our careers. There was no explanation that could vindicate us. But first, we had to attend to more demanding issues. Having spent hours in traffic, we were both hungry, the tank was empty and we were without cash. Thankfully, we found a filling station willing to sell us N65 of fuel because that’s all the money we had. This was not my first rodeo. Sean on the other hand was consecutively surprised and embarrassed.
Soon as we got off 3rd mainland bridge, we parked and then ran desperately from ATM to ATM looking for one that would dispense N500 because we both had less than a thousand in our accounts. It was about 9pm and Sean was adequately knackered. I bet he cursed me in his mind. And having ruined his day and his reputation at the filling station, I deserved it. To top this, the ATM withheld his N500 that he had already planned to squander on late night amala and ewedu. We had to make do with my own N500 for fuel and water while we stiffed our lie against tomorrow.
As if he was in the spirit, Mr Dane called Sean fuming.
‘You think you can slap my intelligence around?’
‘Sir?’ Sean responded in a tone between confused and remorseful.
‘You are influencing Ifeanyi. Involving him in your lie schemes. Don’t even bother with any excuses. As the gang leader with a record, you have earned yourself a salary reduction’.
‘Sir…’
‘And don’t you dare drag Ifeanyi into this; it’s quite evident that you manipulate the poor boy’.
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