Improvised Plan #ProjectNigeria

1- Guts and Stupidity

Saheed:

I normally don't do this. I'm old enough to know the consequences, I'm old enough to know my limits.

Loud music makes my headache worse. Mr Eazi's Pour Me Water fills my ears, making my heart feel like it's also jumping to the beat. The alternation between flashy lights and darkness makes my pupils dilate and contract rapidly in their effort to adjust and make me see better. This leads to temporary blindness, which disorients me terribly.

"Boo, what about the drinks?" my potential lover, Anita, asks me.

She's still asking about more drinks when I'm almost passing out? I wonder. This girl is an ancestor.

"Don't you want to dance?" She questions loudly again, her body moving seductively to the beat of the song. Anita is a young girl in her early twenties, dark skinned, curvy and full of that confidence that comes with youth. "Don't you?"

I would, if I wasn't so focused on not dying.

I shake my head, and this comes with a repercussion- my headache worsens. I deserve this. Karma is here for me. I shouldn't have taken that high dosage of painkillers on an empty stomach and then downed glass after glass of alcohol an hour later.

I manage to get to my feet, stepping on the toes of a few people in the crowded VIP section of one of Lagos' most exclusive night clubs, G-Plus. The loud music drowns their insults and disapproving hisses.

Too many wannabes, I think sardonically.

The moment their maga pays, you see them flooding the VIP sections, their shoulders held high, jostling for space with the regular patrons. I reflect on the name of the club itself and a laugh bursts from my lips.

G-Plus.

I stagger out of the VIP section, my stomach churning and feeling hostile towards its current contents. My potential lover for the night, now forgotten, grabs my arm just as I'm about to descend the stairs.

"What's wrong with you?" She demands, loud enough for me to hear.

But I can't form an answer, because my eyes are telling me that she has two heads now, and I can't seem to focus on one.

Saheed, you are just an idiot.

"I have to go," I mumble, doubting that she has heard me. My voice sounds so slow to me, like glue slowly trickling down from the lip of a bottle. With each passing minute, I feel my situation is getting worse. My legs are already shaking, chills sweep all over my body, and I am running out of breath.

"Why?"

While I move past people, they just look over me, convinced that I'm just another wealthy club goer who has taken the wrong mixture of recreational drugs and alcohol. I bet they think I'll be fine tomorrow morning, because after all, no be today e take start.

The song playing is now Davido's Assurance, and the dancers crowd the dance floor, excited to dance while Davido sings about giving his girlfriend, Chioma, lifetime assurance that they can only imagine having.

Ahmed, my favourite bouncer, spots me and rushes towards me, seeing my current state and deducing that all is not well with me.

"Oga, wetin happen?" He asks as I step outside and suck in much needed fresh air. Boss, what happened?

I completely trust Ahmed, having been a patron of this club for over five years and being driven home by him countless times. Tonight, I know that I cannot drive myself home; that would be a deathwish. Anita can't drive me home, either, because I don't intend to let her get closer to me. None of my lovers ever get personal with me- at least not emotionally. This is something that has worked quite well for me since...