Lagos

There are three types of people in the rush of a metropolitan city;

Those who look like they have somewhere to be;

Those who act like they have somewhere to be and;

Those who have somewhere to be.

Here is Laolu, a young man who has an important meeting at the other extreme of the Island. Driving a white corolla that perfectly fits into the busy landscape that is Lagos. At a glance, he boldly represents the demographic of the young and responsible bachelors. Youthful success, ready to mingle.

Wearing a white shirt that was ironed so well, its outline could cut grass, Laolu hides behind the dark tint of fake rayban glasses. Blaring music, while his car snakes through traffic, constantly changing lanes like a fair weather friend.

He refuses other cars entry into his lane and conveniently ignores Zebra crossings simply because he sees no wild life. The pedestrians wave frantically but he does not care. Besides, he is in a hurry.

As Laolu approaches a green light, he increases his speed as much as he can in the traffic due to a paranoia that the light could turn red at any moment. And so it does as He is about to pass. But Laolu does not stop, no. He steps hard on the throttle, ignoring the molue that is coming from the left, whose light just turned green.

The two men, driving at high speeds on a collision course refuse to stop for each other. To onlookers, the situation seems like a lost cause till the molue driver slams on his brakes just as his bus is about to intersect with Laolu's car.

The driver curses loudly then spreads his fingers at Laolu. Laolu slows down. Lowering his glasses, he stares into the angry driver's eyes and raises his middle finger before driving off. He smiles to himself in satisfaction, He won that contest for sure.

Still reveling in his mental victory, he sights a young woman whose body arrested his eyes without bail. Checking his wristwatch to see if he has time to philander, he frantically swerves to the pavement with eyes fixated upon her figure. Slowly lowering his window, Laolu takes off his glasses with a huge smile and asks where she is headed.

Not your business, She says.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I am Laolu." He says, putting his right hand on his chest.

"And I am not interested". She replies, putting her right hand on her chest.

He fumes like a chimney, she walks away.

Laolu waits for a minute, trying to swallow his wounded pride without choking on it. Just as he decides to continue his journey, the front passenger door opens and a Lastma Officer sits comfortably, like Laolu is his driver. Laoulu smiles, the Officer smiles. They exchange pleasantries like two working men. The Officer was very friendly till they ran out of things to say and he still wouldn't leave.  When it dawned on Laolu that the Officer was a force of nature that couldn't be reasoned with, he abandons the vehicle to be impounded. A problem for later, he has somewhere to be.

Laolu stands at the nearest bus-stop, under the auspice of the hot sun. He checks his wristwatch as much as he cursed under his breath. The first two buses pass and they are filled to the brim. He gets desperate as he waits, an empty Molue approaches and he waves his hand frantically. The bus slows down in front of him and the driver looks into Laolu's soul and raises his middle finger at him. The driver didn't look as good as Laolu when the tables were turned because he was not wearing glasses but Laolu felt more pain. He lost that contest for sure.

He finally finds a bus after wasting a considerable amount of time. Sitting in the middle of two females, whose features made him adjust his glasses and lick his lips. One of them, whose name he caught as Oba is celebrating her birthday giggled and whispered to her sister, who has a long face and an allure. Laolu smiles at Oba and says “Happy Birthday” but is ignored with a beautiful smile because of his appearance. His white shirt has started a slow transformation to brown. The ride is long and turtuous for Laolu, which means good business for the driver who drops and picks passengers at will.

"Do not waist mai time" Laolu often blurts out whenever the driver takes a detour.

It didn't take long before he was known as the stereotypical impatient man in the bus. The conductor, whose manners are as tattered as his appearance asks him to pay his 70naira fare. Laolu, who has only a thousand naira on him is excused unceremoniously from the bus at the nearest bus-stop.

He spends the next hours flagging down buses while they avoid him like an ebola patient because of his thousand naira note. The sunny afternoon quickly changes to its evening attires as Laolu completely misses his meeting.

Laolu thought he had somewhere to be.