The City With the Yellow Buses pt II
Today has not been the best of days.
Adulting 278 - Resa 0, but thank God I still have chocolate ice-cream left from my impulsive spending at ICM (Ikeja City Mall) few days ago, that would console.log (winks) me for the night.
Have you ever unwillingly trekked for 2.4km? With a back bag, an aching head and weak knees, you haven't? I'm so happy for you. Let us take a moment of collective silence to honour the ants that would bite the ass of those who have a hand in the decision to ban bikes and tricycles in major areas of this city.
This City is beautiful, with all the shiny lights and hot spots and beautiful people.
This City also smells. It reeks so terribly you'd wonder if there were corpses lying in the drainages.
The air is so polluted but everyone seems to be fine with it.
This City is loud. I once told a friend I could never imagine starting a family here. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to. If you have a meeting, be sure to get up 4-5 hours before the allotted time. Dress up and prepare your heart for the worst on the road.
I cannot talk about the City with yellow buses if I don't talk about their weird food combinations. First of all, their roasted plantain game (a.ka. Bole) is trash. How can you roast plantain without sauce. Lord knows how often I scan coal lit fires hoping to find a pot of sauce close by.
Another annoying thing they do is to fry yams and chicken then slice fresh pepper all over it and ask me to come and buy. Buy what? God forbid. I'm not juju, I don't eat sacrifice.
Let's thank God for Chicken Republic's ₦500 combo meal that has saved me on nights too numerous to count.
I cannot over emphasize it when I say I miss my home. I miss the Bole, I miss the food spots, the moderate sanity and orderliness.
I miss being in my room on my laptop and having only to worry about how I'll garner energy to go buy food.
I miss my family and I miss the calmness.
I miss the clean air.
And yes, maybe this episode is because I'm nostalgic and stressed and I need emotional support(money is my love language, send funds). But my Lagos story cannot always be fun and sweet and exciting.
Let's hope the next episode isn't as depressing as this.
Thanks for reading.
Resa.
