This is My Story 2

For the first part to this story, go here

When we woke up the following day (which if things went according to plan, we would fly out), it still looked as bleak as the previous day. Most flights from JFK had been canceled. There were projections that JFK would re-open by 2:00pm (Our flight was for 4:25). This gave me a glimmer of hope and when we got information that the trains had started running again, we decided to brave going home in that weather. We eventually made it home by like 2:00pm. At this point, it was almost obvious we weren’t going anywhere as the roads still hadn’t been plowed, hence there would be no way  of transporting ourselves to the airport. Eventually, after taking a shower and some random/spontaneous/impromptu/haphazard packing, my sister was able to call one of her “Ayaj” to come pick us up. 

People, there are crazy people in this world. This so called Ayaj is married with children but still wants to play field. My sister would not give him the time of the day hence, when he received a text from her asking for help in getting to the airport, this man LEFT his wife and kids to come get us.**Shaking head in disapproval** I mean, this man had refused to go to work that morning, claiming that it was bad outside, yet it  wasn’t too bad to come to a chic’s aid? Who am I to complain at such display of magnanimity? *Snorts*

Anyway, en-route the airport, sliding and gliding on the snowy ground, we got a call from a friend telling us that our flight had a backlog and they were only flying people from the backlog. In short, we probably would not be able to fly out. We decided to take a detour to one of our Sistah’s house, since it would be remarkably easier for us to the get to the airport from there than from our house. We got there, joked and everything. YY was being updated about all this though and together, we were trying to be optimistic. The following morning, I called the airline and they told me I would not be able to fly out until Jan 4^th. I was sitting there thinking to myself, “Scuse me?, I might as well cancel this trip= Demise of the love relations between HD and YY, after all, there is only so much physical distance a man can take, right?”

After much harangue, we got cracking to the airport in some ambulance looking van like this. Again who was I to complain? The flight was scheduled for 7pm but guess who didn’t fly out until 9:00am the following morning? At this point, I didn’t even care what time we flew out, provided it was guaranteed that we were going to fly out.

The flight to Istanbul was quite uneventful. The food was as “eeewy” as you can expect and all. The wahala started when we got to Istanbul. Our layover was to be for 12hours. We had been promised accommodation but we weren’t given eventually. Needless to say we had to find something doing for 12 LONG hours. There were highlights tho’. Like some Turkish fellas, actually, the cleaners, calling out to my sister and finding it amusing. Actually, I personally found it amusing too at some point. They kept standing in strategic points and shouting out “Merhaba” meaning “Hi”. I mean, I was sitting there thinking about my predicament and there were this bunch of short and flat-headed bald men shouting out to us in a foreign language!!! One of them had the nerves to come by our table, pretending to clean up, to either

1. Get a closer look at the African wonder

2. Be a nuisance

Here is one of the culprits....short man devil osi!

Either ways, they were drawing unnecessary attention to us so I shouted at them and asked them to keep a distance or I was going to report them to the authorities for “constituting to be a public nuisance”*…..I laugh at myself now*. By the time they called the flight for Lagos, oh boy! I had no idea there were that many Nigerians in Diaspora!!!!

Come and see film show! Loud and Over-Bearing Nigerians!!!!At some point, I had to recall the baggage requirements. Sebi hand luggage consists of a bag that can fit in the overhead and a bag that can fit under the seat? Walai, it must have been that these people could not read, because I saw people with like 3 heavy duty bags!!! Ahnahn!!! They were loud, showy and unnecessarily quarrelsome. All these while, I refused to say anything or identify with any culture. I was almost ashamed of them. And I could notice some people looking at us surreptitiously like they were waiting for us to say something. Eventually, we got on our connecting flight to LAGOS!!!!  Finally…..

>>>>>>>>>>>>>Begins to heave breathes of relief<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

So tell me, what have your experiences been, travelling on a plane filled pre-dominantly by Nigerians? Because for me, that’s another post entirely. :)

**Pulls chair and sits with a plate of buns and a cup of cocoa drink, waiting to read your comments of course**