Original Sufferhead

Na wa o! I have really suffered today in the name of "I want to go to Nigeria"! I have seen orisirisi wahala since I left my sister's house at 4:30 this morning and only now, almost 12 hours later, have I gotten a chance to slow down. Before I start this story, let me first take a few moments to properly 'wash' American Airlines: may their fathers and their father's fathers not find peace in the afterworld and may their children coming hear 'wen' every time they set foot in an airport to travel anywhere! I would also like to insult those FOOLS who decided that they had the talent and the right to create that stupid website, Mapquest, whose only purpose seems to ensure that anyone who uses their website shall get lost, even as they are taking the scenic (i.e. LONG ASS) route to their respective destinations! I am now ready to recount my travails of the day.

I went to bed around 1:20 this morning because I was packing. It was an unfortunate occurrence that I had to sleep so late since I knew I had to wake up at 3:30 in order to make sure I had enough time to shower, pack last-minute items and make it to the airport in time for my flight to JFK. However, I planned to make up for all of it on the plane, so I managed. Fully awakened by the magnificent pressure of the water from my shower, I proceeded to wake up my lovely sister, who agreed to take me to the airport. We actually made it out of the house on time, Mapquest directions in tow, and set off on the dark, deserted roads. Within 15 minutes, it became clear that Mapquest had no idea how to get us where we wanted to go, and this is, I now realize, is when the cosmic universe shifted and determined that all laws were void except Murphy's law. We got so lost that I didn't think we'd make it to the airport in time for me to make that flight. But, by the grace of God, we did and I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be all right. I just knew it.

That was before I saw the line through security that reached one end of the terminal to the other. It was ten minutes before my flight was supposed to begin boarding. There was absolutely no way that I was going to make it. And then I had the luck to be standing in front of this Jamaican woman with her three sons, the oldest of which kept on whining and whining about...everything! From the fact that his youngest brother, who I later discovered was 12, was too tired to stand and so went to sit off to one side, to the fact that his other younger brother brought his PSII on their vacation. I mean, I stood in that line for 20 to 25 minutes and it's this boy I was constantly hearing. The same grainy-voiced whine just grating on my eardrums; when his mother turned to me and said, "Don't get married and don't have kids, right?" I almost hi-fived her. I finally get to the security people, and put my laptop in the bin. Who should I hear behind me but Mr. Whine, who is bloody 19 years old for crying out loud, telling me that I should put the laptop on the conveyor belt because they said nothing should be under the laptop. I was confused first, so I had to ask him like twice what the hell he was talking about. Ajayi Ajasco said that the bin that I put the laptop in must count as something being under the laptop, so they were going to ask me to remove it. See my trouble. A whole seasoned traveler like me...I wanted to ask him where his own laptop is, so that he can show me how to do it. But it wasn't even 6 o'clock yet, so I didn't want to fight. I just said, it's supposed to be in the bin and turned away.

So, wonder of wonders, I made it on the flight. Again, I breathed a premature sigh of relief. In fact, I should have known that everything would have k-leg today from the moment I saw that I was sitting in front of a very hyper child that kept kicking my chair and screaming for no good reason so that I couldn't catch any precious, much-needed Z's. But I decided I'd just sleep it off when I got to JFK; after all, I had 8 hours to kill before my next flight. People, I really thought this would be the end of my problems. When I got to JFK and only one of my two bags came off the already-empty conveyor belt, it took sheer spiritual strength to help me keep my sanity. I went to meet the American Airlines baggage people, and they were giving me attitude upon the fact that they are the ones that lost my bag! We finally agreed that I should come back at 11:30 to get the bag off the next flight. I decided to enter NY and try to do some last minute stuff.

When I phoned these people to find out if the bag made it, they told me with glee that it had indeed arrived and that I could get it at LaGuardia Airport. LaGuardia??, I asked incredulously. How did the bag reach there when you told me that it would come to JFK? Oh, that's where the flight landed. So how am I supposed to get the bag? You should go to LGA and pick it up. Will I carry the bag on my head or what? I am one person with two giant bags, and how am I supposed to get to LGA, then back to JFK?? See trouble o! They started saying they will deliver the bag to my NY address, then to my Nigeria address, then they kuku reneged on everything and said that it's my fault for not filing a claim that they did not even tell me to file. Chineke God of Allah! Then they added insult to injury when I remained adamant that they are the ones that messed up, so they need to fix it: "Ma'am, since you're pressed for time and have another flight to catch, I suggest that you go to LGA and pick it up because we can't help you." I didn't even know when I called the woman a fucking bitch and hung up. But I carried my korokoro leg and went to the LGA to get the bag and by the grace of God (again) I managed to get to JFK in time for my own flight.

That is, until I noticed that my flight had been delayed by over an hour and a half, which I discovered after having stood in line for over an hour waiting for them to start check-in. Oh, by the way, Sista Girl had not eaten or drank since 10pm the night before o, when all this was going on! I was weak. I was numb. I couldn't even complain. When the guy called me to the counter and asked for my passport then greeted me, I couldn't even answer him. I gave him a half-hearted smile and looked at him, eyes glazed over, then asked him what would happen now that I was going to miss all my connecting flights to Nigeria. I had to fly to Detroit, then Amsterdam, then Lagos. Dude said he would check for me. I didn't even have the strength to imagine what I would do if he told me that there was nothing he could do for me, that I would have to trek from Lagos to Ife since the group I'm going to meet there would have left me by then. But every sad story has some redemption. Imagine my shock, relief and deep gratitude when he handed me a boarding pass and a brand-new e-ticket receipt and told me that he had put me on the direct flight from JFK to Amsterdam, so I shouldn't worry about it. If I had had any water in my system, I might have shed a happy tear or two for him.

So here I am, with new ticket and food and Sprite bubbling in my shrunken stomach, sharing this very hectic day with you. I have only one wish: that the plane will be empty enough that I can stretch out on a three-seater and sleep the whole way to Amsterdam. But I have more sense than to ask for that out loud, before it turns out that what I thought was lo mein was actually cocaine noodles and I find myself in Guantanamo Bay with the other "enemies of America's progress".