PH Airport

PH Airport

1. The decent tiled floors beg for a good scrub as the morning yawns into a hazy existence. Thunder clouds gather. It looks like rain again. Three days in a row the heavens have washed the face of the sunbaked earth.
2. My flight is for 9:45am . It had been rescheduled twice the previous day from 3:30pm to 6:45pm then finally to this morning. Bad weather and operational reasons were the excuses given by the lady with the funny voice and accent over the public address system. I just hope the rescheduled flight isn’t rescheduled again today.
3. The Passengers chatter and chuckle looking up intermittently from thrice read newspapers and well thumbed dual sim smartphones; China-forged tablets and humming laptops. We hope the pilot does not come in too hot this time as though in a bid to overshoot the runway. Those chemically bleached anorexic air hostesses better have some shots of brandy handy to manage flayed nerves.
4. The FCT seems near but far. My boarding pass peeps, crooked, out of my breast pocket unsure what to make of the coordinated cacophony and chaos of the South – South morning. It is mid-week so Air traffic is at its peak. My phone’s battery is down. A few more minutes and I should go dark and silent like much of my country.
5. It was a productive journey. I saw the queen and made some cheese. Management and the Shareholders would be elated.
6. Airport Taxi zips along Clinton Avenue. Welcome to Abuja. Bien Venue. Welcome Home. Metres from my window. Green and white stands our bartered pride. Exchanged for cheese and kush.

Lady Green Eyes & Jake Fedora

Ab Initio – curtains.

The tum tum tum of that sanguine apparatus does violence to the deafening silence of an unspoken language of emotions and involuntary gestures.

All through dinner. Seated at opposite ends of the restaurant. Blinking Eyes, smacking lips, flushed cheeks, restless feet and hips are all enlisted in this opera of Venus and Mars. The ethos is a bacchanalian wuzz.

Preludes and Interludes.

“Would you like to be somewhere else now that the lobster is ate and the Merlot drank?”

“Sure handsome ..!” Viola! Cupid’s arrow has struck a bullseye.

The Uber ride comprised lipstick smudges and roaming finger tips. Amid short heavy breathes.

All I remember… aside from the Receptionist smiling like a Cheshire Cat as he handed me the key/card to my room.

Fevid Feverish Ague! “Methinks it is getting hot in here?” Python dance meets Crocodile tears and Alligator jeers. Half drunk whiskey and discarded cigarette butts.

Pause and Applause.

Stinky Cowboy boots and 10 Inch stilettos atop unsocially distanced clothes. Bunched together like conjoined quadruplets.

I light up a cigarette gazing into the POP ceiling composing letters to my Old Nana oblivious until just now that I had broken the State imposed quarantine. Oops!

Functus Officio – down curtains.