by Ifeanyi Dike Jr

There used to be manners, where I would never catch myself exchanging words with an older person for whatever reason until Lagos driving happened to me.

Karma needs to chill for a bit. Who’s with me? I mean, she just gets in the way. And sometimes, we need to invigorate ourselves with evil deeds, but for karma, we refrain.

 I say, f**k karma.

At times, I taste off the forbidden tree and fear no consequence; after all, you only live once according to the gospel of Drake.

In Lagos for instance, one cannot remain a calm driver. Between the drivers of those ramshackle danfo buses whose methods normal people can only contemplate, the okada riders that set themselves up for bed space at Igbobi hospital, the car owners that endure the most and struggle for whatever space is left, one is bound to adapt – and quickly.

This is why last night; I did not let this man have his way, no matter how reckless and inept I drove. There used to be manners, where I would never catch myself exchanging words with an older person for whatever reason until Lagos driving happened to me.

You see, Sharon and I have been serious for a while now, and she thought it was time to meet her parents but I of course, was reluctant. Two quarrels and several weeks of withholding intimacy later, I agreed, provided she paid back in kind. First impression, they say is everything so I could not be late to see her parents.

But the devil had sent this man to ruin my day and earn me two more weeks of sexless-ness. I was about to overtake a vehicle when he speedily drove between us and tossed me to the side while grazing my bumper with his heavily metalled fender, leaving me at risk of being squished by a BRT bus. I had to make a turn at the end of the road, so I was desperate to retaliate before he drove off my route. Quickly, I tried to catch up with him, but each time, he doubled pace. Obviously, an apology was beyond him, making me the more vexed.

I drove so fast, without care of ramming into other vehicles. Other drivers showered me insults in English and other tongues as I sped through. Of course, they did not understand my rage but I had eyes on my target and I was more likely to step in unicorn sh*t than let him go scot-free. And my sister, volatile as ever, fuelled my drive even more, insisting that he bullied us and he deserved some tongue-lashing.

When I finally squared up to him, even I was shocked at the sorts of insults my tongue whipped out. Luckily, he was going my way so there was ample time for my sister and I to empty on him all the insults we’ve ever known and even better – he was the sort that responded. Boy did we have a field day exchanging words with a stranger that was older yet, could not punish us. So much so, that when we eventually parted ways, I felt triumphant and fulfilled, anxious to tell Sharon what I did just to make it to hers on time.

I greeted her mum and nervously waited for her father who she said came home upset.

‘Some disrespectful thugs pissed him off on his way back,’ she said ‘Don’t worry, he won’t take it out on you.’

‘Okay. I have something to tell you by the way. After dinner,’ I whispered.

When he finally came down, I was speechless. I was without speech. I must have missed his car in the garage when I was driving in.

‘Oh my f**king gosh’, I muttered repeatedly.

Her father was equally shocked. Everyone in the room could tell that there was some history between us and perhaps anxious to know what. The silence that followed was awkward in excesses.

I had just spent the last fifteen minutes cursing out of my girlfriend’s dad.

‘Hopefully he won’t mention it. Maybe I should apologise or just pretend like it wasn’t me’

I was sweating fit to drown a fish, mortified as hell of the next few minutes.

First impression huh? And that b***h called Karma.

 

Editor’s note: Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.