THIRD PAINLAND BRIDGE!

A facebook friend (lol) of mine, sent this hilarious story to me and I wanted to share the humor with everyone who visits this blog. It's titled THIRD PAINLAND BRIDGE by Gbenga X-Adebija and it's an excerpt from his forthcoming collection of short stories titled STORYTELLA.

Read and Enjoy!

THIRD PAINLAND BRIDGE!

Like most folks who live and work on Lagos Mainland, any trip to Lagos Island is cause for significant apprehension and trepidation. Having been traumatized a few times over the years by the mind-boggling hold-ups on third mainland bridge, I had consequently limited any trips to the island to family outings at weekends when there would be virtually no traffic on the bridge. Alas, this blissful state was totally shattered when much to my chagrin, a significant percentage of my clients are based on the island. This means numerous meetings on Ikoyi and Victoria Island, via the third mainland bridge. The eve of any such meetings would mostly be spent in a dark and somber state of mind, a thick cloud of melancholy enveloping my mood. The following day’s trip was an unfolding nightmare which I could not control. Being a “novice” at such matters, I often misjudged the traffic and quite a few times ended up hours in advance of scheduled appointments. On one of such occasions, anticipating heavy traffic, I took off early(too early!) and found myself with about 3 hours to kill. An unwise decision to detour and look up an old friend meant I just about made the appointment with a few minutes to spare! Needless to say, I spent the first part of the meeting simply nodding in agreement with everyone and looking “wise”! I was only trying to catch my breath, phew!

Another meeting on another day and I approach the third mainland bridge. My heart sinks when I see the massive stretch of vehicles. It looks like the New York Marathon on wheels! This is despite the fact that I left home relatively early in the morning for a mid-day appointment on the island.

Una no dey sleep for this Lagos? I wonder.

There must have been at least five lanes and I gingerly maneuver into the nearest accessible one. It is somewhat central and hemmed in between a massive truck and a large staff bus, I start feeling slightly claustrophobic! I wind down the windows and look around. Most of my new “neighbours” seem fatigued(not enough sleep, perhaps?) and their faces look grim. Minutes roll by and we remain immobile, no movement. Gawd! One of the cars slightly ahead of me to the side contains a couple and the wife is seriously berating the man who seats with slumped shoulders. From the bits and pieces of what I hear, the man is responsible for their lateness and subsequent plight in traffic that morning. Hmmm.. strange because women are far more likely to be the cause of lateness than men?(any female readers out there with a different opinion? Email gadebija@yahoo.com).

Anyway, I must have been doing “amebo” rather too obviously, because the man suddenly sits up and swings around to glare at me. His face is contorted in anger. Talk about transferred aggression! I quickly pretend to drop something on the floor of the car and bend down out of sight of his murderous glare. I remain motionless until I suddenly hear loud blaring of horns and raised voices. Gingerly, I straighten up only to find that the vehicles in front of me have moved a few yards ahead. All around and behind me, the “neighbours” are angrily questioning both my ancestry and mental stability. Quickly, I drive the car forward taking care to move as far as possible from “Mr husband” who is still looking daggers at me. I am over six feet and about two hundred pounds so “Mr husband” would probably suffer a rude shock if he is foolhardy enough to press the issue, but still, I am taking no chances o! For all I know he could be an expert in martial arts!

My car draws level with a Toyota Camry filled with girls. Now, that’s better! The girl driving the car looks casually in my direction and then suddenly smiles. I return the smile, happy to see a friendly face after “Mr husband’s” savage scowls(Editor’s comment: yeah right!)

“Your face looks familiar” she says

The girls in the car also look at me. This goes on for sometime and I manage to keep a straight face.

“Are you an actor or a model or something?” girl- driver asks.

“Me? No way!” I answer.

“So, how come your face looks familiar?” she persists.

Again, I am subjected to intense scrutiny by five pairs of eyes.

One of the girls in the back leans forward and whispers something to girl- driver.

“My sister says she has seen you on TV. Have you been on TV before?”

I reply in the affirmative.

Girl-whisperer leans forward again.

“What’s your name?” asks girl- driver

“Gbenga”

Another mini-conference among the girls ensues.

Girl- driver looked across at me “You were a judge on The Intern abi?”

“Yes,” I confirm

Girl-whisperer speaks aloud for the first time. Girl Aloud?

“And why have you stopped writing for ThisDay ?”

Yeeee!

Images of my editor, Gabriella Osamor, flash through my mind. Let me say here that Gabriella has two methods, both equally persuasive, of getting what she wants. Method A is a systematic and calculated avalanche of calls/text messages while Method B is ominous silence. I frantically try to remember the last time I wrote my column, two weeks? Three weeks? Can’t remember.

Wahala!

Dimly, I become aware that one of the girls is asking me a question.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I apologize.

“Do you have Ebuka’s number? He is soooo cute!” she gushes.

I search my phone and call out Ebuka’s number. The girls whip out their handsets and store the number.

“Is he a nice guy?” one of the girls smiles coyly

“Very, very nice” I say. I make a mental note to compel Ebuka to “settle” me. All the PR must be paid for!

The girls wave goodbye as the line begins to move again. When the cars inevitably halts, I find myself at the edge of the lane closest to the water. Suddenly, extremely unwisely, I start to remember all the mails on the internet about real or imagined structural defects of the bridge. Infact, a group of Nigerians in Los Angeles held me “hostage” on a recent visit to inquire about the health status of the bridge. I recall being touched by their concern for relatives and friends back “home” who frequently used the bridge and my fervent assurances seemed to provide great relief. However, the truth was that I knew absolutely nothing about the bridge but I did not think it was a good idea to reinforce their fears!

I peer over the rails on the bridge and stare at the mass of water. God forbid, that anything should happen o, because I can’t swim! No movement at all. I vaguely recall reading about a 4^th Mainland Bridge in the works. About time too! Suddenly, I hear something alarming. Eh? Wetin be dat? The bridge is shaking? Help! Anyway, we finally start moving again. I look at my watch. Two hours have gone by. What a waste of time and manpower. Have there been any studies to track how much the country loses on a daily basis?

My thoughts are interrupted by a dark and swarthy man tapping on my window. I wind down to attend to him.

“Oga, buy correct and latest CD and DVD” he beams at me.

My eyes rove through his inventory which seemed to be rather extensive. I have a few reservations about the quality of the offers, so decide to turn him down very nicely.

“Do you have the latest CD by Engelbert Humperdinck?”

His eyes bulge with surprise and shock.

“wetin be dat?” he gasps

I maintain a poker face.

“Engelbert Humperdinck. That’s the only music I listen to”

His sales instincts kick in smoothly

“ I get am but I just sell the last one, now now. ” he tells me

I spread my arms in an exaggerated gesture of despair

“E pain me say you no get Engelbert Humperdinck o!” I say

He shrugs disconsolately.

“Maybe one of your friends fit get. Why don’t you ask around for me?” I suggest

His face brightens

“Ok, I go try” he declares

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him approach one of his colleagues. After a few moments both of them turn to stare at me and approach my vehicle.

“Ethelbert wetin you call am oga?” the other one asks

“No be Ethelbert, na Engelbert” I correct him.

Both men exchange glances

“Im be naija man?” one asks

I laugh heartily

“No, na oyinbo man”

A slight pause

“I thought you said you had his CD” I say accusingly.

He looks somewhat sheepish

“Na Ethelbert Humphrey Dick I get” he blusters

Now it is my turn to look perplexed.

“Who be dat?”

A triumphant look alights on the face of the CD vendor’s face

“Oga, e be like say you no current at all o!”

With that parting shot, he bids farewell and saunters away.

Yeee!!

To console myself, I switch on the car cd and insert a CD of rock and heavy metal songs. (And yes, it includes a track by Engelbert Humperdink!). A few minutes later, I somehow find myself side by side with my arch enemy, “Mr husband” himself! We eyeball each other and he looks away. Either he has forgotten about the incident which happened two hours previously or he has “forgiven” me. Either way, bless him! Because, now that I have a closer look at “Mr husband” I can see that he more than matches me in size and other physical attributes! There is a standstill, no movement for about ten minutes, but I continue to enjoy the rock music from Red Hot Chili Peppers, Bon Jovi, Guns & Roses, blaring from my CD player.

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted .

“Mr Man, what kind of music is that now?”

I could not believe my ears. Leaning across to address me is “Mrs wife”

“Good morning Madam, are you talking to me? I politely respond

“Yes, you. Why are you playing all that demonic music early this morning?”

My jaw drops open.

“I don’t know what is wrong with some people. Why can’t you play music that will edify your soul and people around you?”

I am totally speechless. Unbelievable!

She continues to harangue me

“Not that I am harassing you(oh really?) but I am just advising you for your own good because I am an evangelist(oh really?) and your soul will be on my conscience(oh really?) if I don’t warn you of the consequences of what you are doing”

I turn to appeal to “Mr husband” to call his wife to order and I am further shocked by what I see.

His face is wreathed in smiles! He then winks at me and pleadingly signals for me to ignore her.

So, I reach forward and turn off the car CD.

“Ok, Madam. Thanks for your advice.” I say

She looks pleased at her “victory”.

“God bless you and let me invite you to my church”

I listen with feigned interest as she gives me the details.

“Thank you, Madam”

She wags a warning finger as traffic starts to move

“See you on Sunday o!”

Yeah, right….