There are certain places I get excited about travelling to. Where I’m going to today is not one of them. Mostly because the best flight is the 7:20 one and so I have to be up extra early to get through the airport drama. Then, when I arrive there, it’s still going to be 7:20 because I have moved one hour backwards! Mschew. To save myself time, I tried to check in online but of course, Arik cannot just get online check-in right. It will always be unavailable.
I have now arrived at the airport and immediately my resting face is on. I nor dey for “anything for the boys/girls”. If you have resting face, you are most likely not going to get harrassed to give them something. So if you meet me at the airport boning please that’s why. It’s not me, it’s them.
On getting to the check-in counter, I noticed 2 Mama’s that an airport facilitator (abi what do we call them?) was helping with their many bags. It’s as if they came to shop in Lagos. This will take a while, I think and sigh. One attendant with square hair-cut (I don’t know what to call it, no vex) calls for the next passenger but since Mama’s are not ready, he beckons to a white man who had gone to queue at another counter that had no attendant. (I normally won’t mention race but because it is relevant to this tale, bear with me).
Okay, perhaps he is relieving his colleague who took a break. I won’t ask him why he didn’t call me. After a while I notice that Square Haircut is suddenly not attending to anyone and seeing as Mama’s were now having their Ghana-must-go bags cellotaped, I walk over and ask him if he could attend to me.
He mumbles something in response but as I don’t hear I said he should say that again. He says, “I’m attending to that white man.”
I look around. I’m sorry, who?
That white man there, he says clearly for me and half of the airport to hear.
I don’t understand. If he is way over there whispering furiously with Customs and you have all these people right here to attend to, why will you not hang his matter first and deal with the people in front of you?
At that point I decide that it isn’t worth the stress. I had only 4 hours of sleep. I’m not going to unleash my sleep deficit on him. I move over to the next queue, ready to ignore him even if he eventually calls me and I stand behind a lady. Meanwhile, the Mama’s are still counting their bags and pakages o.
When the lady attendant calls for next passenger one man just appears from nowhere to hand over his passport. Mbanu. Enough is enough.
“Excuse me, is there a queue?” I ask.
“Madam, see the queue here,” a bag attendant replies.
“Yes, I see that, however, she called for next and this man shows up from nowhere to give her his passport and she just took it like we haven’t been standing right here since.” Refering to myself and the other lady. “This place looking like a bus park. Is it Young Shall Grow?”
If I did not mend for them like that do you know they wouldn’t have shaped up? The lady attendant tells the baggage guys to tag the Mama’s things and get them out of the way. Then she moves at lightening speed to issue my boarding pass.
“Please go through to departures ma.”
“Yes, thank you, but who takes the bag I want to check in?”
“Ah-ahn? Rasaq, come and take her bag nau?”
O di egwu.