..of local flights and frustrations (a feel of local air-travel in Nigeria)

Tick-tuck, tick-tuck, tick-tuck....

Tick tuck says the clock, what you have to do, do quick.....

Yes, as kids, this message drummed to, we were. Today November 21, 2009, I questioned it, and the rationale for it...

I questioned the sanity of the average Nigerian....(My definition of insane: simple, mumusciously accepting and tolerating acts of random stupidity) and smiling..., and be expected to remain calm.

The scene, the old domestic wing of the MM airport Lagos, the cast, the immaculately clad staff of A***k Air, the raving throng of certifiably Insane customers, and then, myself.

In my subconscious, I hear the director shuffle in his seat.. And in a calm commanding voice...'Take your positions! Light, camera action....

Enter stage left, the ticketing and counter staff of A***k Air, it is 30 minutes to flight take-off, calm and confident... The manager (some questionable fellow called Kazeemson Ayindeyo) strolls in, smiling, the counter is in disarray... People shouting, and waving tickets in the air, angrily....

We breathe a sigh of relief... Monija! Monija! Monija... I am amused, somewhat.. I turn, and see a middle aged football-like woman, gelle and all, for a split second, my thoughts drift to lagbaja (remember him? The musician, who covers his face and hides behind a mask..., I hear he stole some kid's chocomilo and has been in hiding ever since.) 

Focus! My mind calls out!


Monija! Monija mi! Epppp me, epppp me pliss, my ticket e go expire o....! Then it hit me, like a thunderbolt ... These tickets, if not converted to boarding passes, would, like a can of opened unused evaporated milk..... Expire!?!

We push forward, tickets in hand... He, Ayindeyo, in his most self-absorbed voice, asks for our tickets, and we oblige...

As if connected to a loudspeaker..... Tick tuck, tick tuck.... we hear the clock..... 8am strikes the clock, still struggling for boarding passes for a 7.30am flight.

Restless and impatient, we let loose... Behind me stands a lady, a celebrity I recognise, in the same queue and struggling on the same line....she whispers softly still... Am sure if there were more ladies here, it wouldn't be this chaotic.

Hmmmmmmm, now that's a thought, considering that the mêlée was caused by the professional ineptitude and legendary rudeness of a female ticketing staff that had since withdrawn to a corner to admire the chaos that is her masterpiece...

Anyways, as we push forward still, the counter creaking from our combined weight... here stands Mr Ayindeyos.. Suddenly, swiftly, he throws a hand up and commands silence!...or was that (gesture) a heil Hitler salute perhaps? (I ask myself)

Then I saw it, not quite sure what it was, but I saw it... The sweat patch under his arm, where his armpit should be.... are those dreadlocks struggling to make their presence felt through his shirt’s underarm? Brown-colored dreadlocks perhaps? I cringe...

Then he smiles as if to savour, once again, the extent of his power over helpless customers who had paid to get on a flight, but who are now subjected to begging, groveling and idol-worshiping Ayinde-Mr. Monija!

(I saw it, his brown uneven teeth, crooked from... okay, freeze frame!: how would I know where those teeth could possibly have been...?!

Someone behind me whispers... I hear they got that way from him chewing high-tension wires (interesting, I think to myself, so Ayinde Mr. monija is also the cause of the power outage in most parts of Lagos?!) Finally, the solution to our PHCN woes is at hand... Not by increasing our generating capacity, but rather, simply by confining Ayinde mr.-monija to Aro Mental.

His dark brown teeth shine proudly through his smile, he must have, I am sure, taken extreme care to polish his teeth, to an immaculate rich brown hue... 

An hour later, and having basked in a sea of musky, sweaty, and upset fellows, I finally get my boarding pass... then the chase begins...

I see an aircraft, what are they doing to it I ask? It's called a pre-flight safety check... Is that why the landing gear seems to be putting on sprint shoes!? - I ask myself.

Over the public address speakers... Someone clears her throat, and we hear the all too familiar voice of miss hot potato in her throat (you know her don't you? The one that makes all airport announcements in Nigeria, in a way that she and only she can understand what she is saying) at least we have been able to successfully clone her in all our airports, well done FAAN!

"All checked-in passengers on A***k flight 123 should please proceed for boarding"... (I managed to make out what she said this time, surprise!)

We proceeded to the boarding gate. As if on cue, we all begin a sprint for the aircraft... And wait for it..... So does the craft! Aha! I think to myself, the aircraft landing gear did have running shoes on!

In my hurry I try to read the writing on the craft, A***k, greed of......, or is it fools of Nigeria, I am unsure, uncertain, it is all a blur.

We finally reach the sad subdued aircraft and board it.

My thought strays to Ayinde, to the gele-clad woman, to my fellow sprinters... I buckle in and attempt to drift into sleep... but I cannot.

We fly, we land; hard and bumpy, but we land.... the pilot (who I fondly nicknamed Mr. Tipsy kangaroo (as only a tipsy kangaroo can possibly bounce that many times in one landing), oblivious to our pain and frustrations asks:

“I hope you have had a wonderful experience flying with us today, thank you for choosing A***k Air, looking forward to welcoming you on board again....”

we all dwell on his words for a few seconds...then, as if on cue, the tears flow as we realise that he was indeed right, no matter how poorly treated we were today, he would indeed be welcoming us again, and soon... beggars they say, have no choices.

End Notes: Have you had a not-so-pleasant experience with an air carrier, local or international? would like to read about your experiences as well. Comment below.