Journey of Love- "A match made in Heaven"

…More words dropped.

“whish flaght r u taking?”

“qwhat’s urp?”and where is ur monda ?’’

“Will u eat rice?”

 Hungry as I was I couldn’t agree to another chance of parading myself with this palot and his louis vuitton in a restaurant for more well-meaning Nigerians to see. So I boned and said “No”.

My luck turned around when someone called out my name behind me. I turned around to a familiar face, with no name on my mind registered to the same address. But this was my chance. I took it, sprang up before Osas could blink. Opinions may differ, but I believe I ran towards her in slow motion with very “hero-like music” playing in the background of my mind.

I hugged and grabbed her like a long lost friend, and quickly steered her toward the bar to go get a well-deserved drink and most importantly get out of Osas’s reach

*          *         *        

The hours passed quite quickly over drinks and gossip of old school mates and things,until finally my flight was announced. I made a beeline for the boarding gate and after all routine checks, I sat myself snugly in a window seat of the small aircraft. (I must state at this point that installation of plus size-friendly seats should be considered by airline operators.*just saying*)

So finally my ordeal was over, and I could fly safely, and begin the mad weekend of family bonding, bickering and fighting. Thoughts of the welcoming starch and owho soup made my tummy growl.

“Patience my dear”I whispered fondly to it with a gentle rub, unaware of what fortune had stored for me on the adjoining seat”.

 It wasn’t his size that scared me, really. It was the huge drops of sweat that now beaded his neck like a 1960’s choker, and his massive headphones which clung like a hangman’s noose. He plopped himself down beside me, and with apparent effort, attempted to buckle his seat belt. It took him all of 3 minutes, and in all of this time, I maintained my cool. It wasn’t until he asked me if he could remove the armrest that separated my tummy from his, that I became quite flustered – as in wetin come be dat one na?we relate? tcheeeeew. I didn’t so much as cast a sideways glance. Nonsense!

The plane took off and I quietly slipped into a very deep but brief nap – my empty tummy beckoned. I woke up to find the attendant had gone past me, and Heaven forbid that I call her back for their lonely meat pie. I turned towards the window and willed myself to sleep, but no o! Fat boy neighbour had other plans.

At first, I could have sworn I was dreaming. Was that stew I perceived or …? I tried to ignore it until I heard the rustling of a nylon bag JUST BESIDE ME!!!

I turned around slowly and ALAS my seat-mate had just popped open a bag of nicely stewed meat, and was digging in quite joyfully…Ha!

At that moment someone somewhere said; “na wa o, inside plane again? SOME PEOPLE SHUD JUST STICK TO EKENE DILI CHUKWU”. That comment will live with me forever.

I could have died at that very moment but I’m not sure which would have killed me first;

1.      Embarrassment, or

2.    Longathroat.

That was some maaaad meat, mehnnnnnn! It was all I could do not to pally the guy, and beg him small meat. Chai!!!

Clearly, having traced the aroma to my seat, the flight attendant with a beautiful smile says, ‘Madam, please food is not allowed on the plane’.

I SHOCK!!

“Na me dey chop the food?” Then I saw it. Fatso had taken advantage of my snooze to remove the only barrier between us - The Armrest.

And there we were now seated like an overweight pair on an episode of Biggest Loser - Couples Edition....Me frowning, and him licking stew off his fingers.

Just my luck….