The Eight Hour Trip -Adebanji Koiki
No one informed John that flights from Abuja to Lagos are usually sold out on weekends. Although, one thing was certain, everything was unusual from inception. When he asked to buy flight ticket online to Abuja a day before, Yinka, his sister had said, ‘no need’.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘You can buy it at the airport and board right away’, abnormal but impressive he thought.
Truthfully, he bought the flight ticket at the airline counter and forty minutes later he was on a plane headed for Abuja. The flight was turbulence free, perhaps better than all the flights he had taken around America and around the world to land in Nigeria. It was smooth!
Reality hit him when he landed and proceeded outside of the airport, it was humid, and even so confused, with cab drivers shouting and gesturing at him to board their cabs.
‘I’m going to the Supreme Court. How much is that?’ He asked one that was closest to him.
‘Oga, that is the three arm zone. That place is far o’
‘Can you take me there?’ He asked again.
‘1500’ the Cabbie responded scanning John’s eyes
‘Let’s go!’ John responded
The Cabbie was surprised that John didn’t try to negotiate, he stood still looking at John until John motioned to him to lead the way to his cab.
John’s business in Abuja was short; meet with Fatima at the Supreme Court where she would just be finishing a conference on ‘Plea Bargain’ and have lunch with Francis, his hall mate back in college.
Everything went well until he decided to head back to Lagos. Then it hit him, every airline was sold out!
There was no going back to Lagos except an option of eight hour bus trip at night.
Francis had pleaded with him earlier to stay and enjoy the nightlife in Abuja but he had vehemently refused. Now, the thoughts came back to him, perhaps enjoying Abuja for the night wasn’t a bad idea.
He ran through his phone contacts and dialed Francis,
‘Hello Francis’
‘Hey’
‘I am taking you up on your offer…let’s club tonight. I’m stuck, no flights’
‘Nice! I’ll pick you up where I dropped you’ Francis offered.
Loud music, girls twerking and guys stylishly touching them on the dance hall, just like night clubs John had experienced in New York. Francis was used to it all, he picked on a couple of girls whose bodies pressed against his while they danced. He would hold them by the waist as if to help them from falling and the girl’s demeanor at the touch determined Francis’ fate. This continued throughout the night with a switch of night clubs, different people but the same rhythm.
At 6:00am, clubs started closing with tired, staggering bodies and Francis driving John to the bus station after an unsuccessful trial at getting a flight early. Road trip wouldn’t be bad during the day he thought, so he quickly made friends with the bus conductor.
‘This is an eight hour trip and I’ll be sitting at the back….you’d be doing me a great favour by sending the finest girl on this trip to come sit next to me’ John played with the bus conductor.
This cracked Francis up and the bus conductor sensed the seriousness and responded politely, ‘I gat you’
Instantaneously, a girl approached and the conductor gestured to her to sit at the back. She peered into the bus to scan and nodded looking at John, proceeded to sit beside John.
In fact, she was gorgeous!
It was beginning to look like a great road trip, John seemed to tell Francis with a wink as he bade farewell, turned to the ladyand the driver locked key in the ignition.
‘Hello’ John started
‘Hey’ the beauty responded taking her mouth off the Kunnu; milk, she was drinking.
John made to proceed with the conversation as the driver was driving out of the park but a bump threw the bus off balance which let out a subtle scream from the lady. The Kunnu she had in her hand had spilled and it was all over her dress.
Luckily, John had a clean handkerchief and he was quick to offer her. Grateful but embarrassed, she cleaned off with a beautiful smile on her face while occasionally looking at John.
‘I’m sorry your handkerchief is wet’ she played away the scenario
‘That’s fine, I have no use for it anyways…’ John quipped as he looked at her and proceeded,
‘You may want to use it more, you still have some on…’ the spill was all over her dress right by her breasts.
‘Well, since you can see it, then you should clean it’ she said with a straight face handing John the handkerchief.
Clean it! That was what she said. The cleaning was on her breast. John hesitated, looked at her and she nodded with a smile.
And there, the trip had barely begun and John was already cleaning milk off the breast of an amazing beauty. He did it so well with the damsel smiling the entire time and John wondering if this was really real.
‘I am Zainab’ comes the introduction.
Then the conversation; Zainab, a college student who couldn’tsecure a flight to visit her Aunt in Lagos and had to resort to road trip. John did the same but left out the part that he lived in the United States and was only visiting Nigeria. They discussed everything and anything. She got comfortable, leaned on him, he massaged her shoulders, locked fingers and rested her palms on John’s thighs.
The feeling was mutual and the connection real. It was magical and the conversation unending.
She got tired and rested her head on John’s thigh. John in turn, cradled her body like rocking a baby to sleep. She was soft, sweet and gorgeous.
When the bus stopped for lunch, she asked John what he wanted and she rushed to the food stall leaving her hand bag with John. Such trust, John thought.
‘I’ll be back right now, I need to use the rest room. Your food has been ordered’ Zainab addressed
‘I’ll be right here’ John assured
The food came and it was paid for…Zainab paid for both their meals.
John attempted to give her her money back but she refused at every attempt. It was a done deal.
Twenty minutes later, they were back on the bus and back together like no one else on the bus mattered. They felt like a couple, clinging on each other like they knew each other all their lives and the dialogue continued.
It was sad when they finally arrived in Lagos; Zainab was heading to Ikorodu and John, Bariga. They exchanged phone numbers and John walked her to a cab with a broken heart.
‘At least, we have each other’s contact information…we’ll meet again soon’ John tried to console himself.
‘Definitely! I’ll call you’ Zainab reassured with a shaky voice and both hugged tightly.
‘Bye’ they both said in unison.
John was indeed heartbroken.
Later that night, John’s phone lighted up with a ring displaying Zainab.
‘Hey John! See, I told you I’d call’
‘Yes, you did’ John responded elated.
Two days later, John boarded a flight to go back to the United States and before take off, he wrote a text message to Zainab,
‘I am taking a trip to the United States and this is my number while I am there, please be sure to contact me when you have the time’
He thought perhaps he should have informed her before now but at that moment it didn’t matter anymore, he was leaving. He was more scared of calling to tell her at a late hour; she’d understand eventually.
And two weeks later,
‘My runaway husband’ she shouted through the phone with a number listed as Unknown.
‘Zainab!’ John screamed. He wouldn’t mistake her voice.
And so the dialogue continued,
‘What have you been up to?’
‘How are you?’... And so it began again.
