4:00 a.m.
I heard the alarm ring so loudly. I struggled to open my eyes. They were heavy and seemed like they needed more rest. Finally, I got them open and stared at the ceiling for three seconds too long like I was trying to remember what my existence that morning was for. Like a forgotten answer that snuck back to my head. My UK embassy interview was that morning in Abuja at exactly 8:45 a.m. sharp. I jumped out of bed and tripped over my suitcase on the floor. I had lied to myself that I’d packed my bag last night, but the suitcase was still open on the floor, like a confirmation of how lazy I was.
Brushing my teeth with one hand and throwing clothes into my suitcase with the other. Anything at all I thought would be important. Then I rushed into the bathroom.
I didn't bother to eat. I would sort my stomach out later.
---
4:45 a.m.
I was still waiting for the taxi I booked yesterday to show up. I picked up my phone and called the driver.
“I'm on my way, Ma'am,” he said over the phone in that typical nonchalant Lagos driver's tone. I knew immediately that he was lying or probably still in bed. I didn't bother calling him again; instead, I booked another ride, which took almost ten minutes to arrive. I dragged my suitcase down the stairs into the night. I looked at Mama Chinedu's window and it was still locked. I didn't bother waking her up to tell her I was leaving. I would text her later. I got out of the house and into the car. A black sedan with tinted glasses.
At that moment, I prayed to God for my safety. My hands were on the speed dial if anything was to go wrong.
---
5:15 a.m.
We were driving through the Third Mainland Bridge. It wasn't long before my driver hit the brakes hard. I stretched my neck to see what was going on, red brake lights stretched into the distance like Christmas decorations. A container had fallen on the bridge, a commuter said.
"This early? On a Tuesday morning?" I asked.
"Aunty be like you're bee to Lagos. (Seems like you're new in Lagos)" My driver mocked me.
I quietly squeezed my file into my bible. The Christian in me manifested suddenly.
My driver kept muttering “Na wa o” every two minutes.
The time on the car dashboard read 5:32 a.m. I checked the time of my flight again like I didn't see it earlier 6:30 a.m. The airline’s warning was written boldly below the manifest
“Check-in closes 45 minutes before departure.”
---
6:00 a.m.
Luckily, we drove into the airport. Somehow, my driver had manoeuvred the traffic in Lagos style. I paid him and jumped out of the car. I could hear the driver screaming.
"Aunty, five star o abeg."
I ignored him and ran inside, I finally found the line and joined. But alas the airline staff was frowning at my ID.
“Madam, you brought the photocopy, where is the original?” he replied, handing it back to me.
"My God!" I screamed. My heart beat harder. I had forgotten the original in the other handbag at home. Gently, I knelt and started pleading with the staff in every Yoruba language in my arsenal. It sounded funny, but I didn't care; I just wanted something that would do the charm.
"If I miss this interview, I'm finished. Will you like my village people to finish me?"
She stared at me for a full five seconds, then sighed and waved me on. I wanted to hug her but settled for a breathless, “God bless you.”
---
6:25 a.m.
I tried paying an extra two thousand naira which they said was for the extra baggage fee for just a suitcase. The more I punched in my code on the POS machine at the counter. The more the POS refused my card. I was on the verge of crying like a baby when a passenger behind me pushed forward a ₦2,000 note.
“Here, you can have it. You look like you’re about to cry,” he said.
He wasn't far from the truth. I was at my limit emotionally. I mouthed a very big thank you to him and his wife. Her stare felt like it could kill me at that spot.
---
6:40 a.m.
“Final boarding call for Air Peace flight 202 Lagos to Abuja.”. I jumped to my feet and, with the other passengers, walked down the tarmac. My heels clacked on the floor, my handbag bouncing against my hip.
“Welcome aboard,” she said. The air hostess smiled as I got on the plane. I took a deep breath and shut my eyes as I sat on my seat.
---
7:50 a.m.
The plane finally landed in Abuja. I jumped to my feet bumping my head on the overhead bin. I turned to be sure nobody saw that. But so many 'sorrys' were already flying around.
I smiled and maintained composure.
It wasn't long until I got to Abuja airport that my mind started racing again. I still had a thirty-minute drive to the embassy. So my Google map said. I had already called a friend to pick me up but he wasn't there at the arrivals.
---
8:05 a.m.
I stood for minutes calling him but finally saw him leaning on the car, scrolling through his phone like he was about to call me.
“Chuka, I'll deal with you later but for now, please, drive fast,” I said, almost ignoring his hug.
Unlike Lagos, Abuja was way cooler, calm, and beautiful. Chuka drove so fast. As fast as he could. Almost beating the red light. Every red traffic light felt like it was intentionally spitting at me.
---
8:28 a.m.
We finally pulled to a stop in front of the UK embassy gate.
I jumped out of the car yelling. “Don't go anywhere, Chuka, please!"
I pushed through the embassy gate, showing my slip like it was the pass to heaven. I got inside to see the crowd there. I stopped and laughed so hard. I didn't expect to see that much crowd.
I found an empty seat and sat down. Then I took a deep breath. I wasn't too late after all. I made it just in time for when the interviewer started calling names.
Finally, the interviewer called my name, and I stood up with a smile so wide it almost felt like I had pride.
I wished people around would understand why. Just that morning, Lagos had thrown its best obstacles at me, yet, I was still on time.
[Source](https://pixabay.com/photos/travelling-travel-holiday-plane-7844283/)
