The Many Follies Of My Co-Traveller (II)

As soon as we got airborne and announcements made simultaneously in Arabic and English languages, Madam Fijabi went into a fit of rage. Twisting, turning and hissing endlessly that she’s Yoruba and “speaks no ingris”, so doesn’t understand a word spoken over the PA.

Her sense of entitlement was as pervasive as was comical. I glanced her way severally and shook my head in disgust.

I would later hear a loud, snorting sound like someone jerking from an epileptic fit. Alas ! Madam was snoring so loudly everyone up until the last row, heard.

The flight attendants tried in vain to ask her to comport herself. And she would later spread some piece of wrapper on the floor at the over wing exit row and graciously sleep off…sigh. How much more embarrassing can it be to be a fellow Nigerian?

Flight progressed and she was roused from sleep shortly before landing. Madam Fijabi then voiced, “America ni mo n kuku lo, gbogbo eleyi a too d’opin”. (My final destination is the US and I’m only in Cairo for a short period).

Three nights spent in Cairo and on the fourth day, it was time to connect to New York.

I arrived the airport and proceeded to check in amongst the chaos and I heard the all too familiar noise.

Madam. Again ! She hugged me boisterously, almost choking my tiny frame to death while feeling an overwhelming sense of familiarity. She went on to say, she was glad to see me and hoped we were on the same flight to New York.

Sadly, we were.

We boarded and this time around, she sat two rows ahead of me. Spacious aircraft, clean ambience, plenty entertainment to choose from, all passengers busied themselves.

Meal service and the flight attendants rolled their trolleys. Naturally, it was an egg breakfast meal which I declined because I do not eat eggs.

From where i sat, i saw Madam ask for two portions of food and while the flight attendant was reluctant to oblige her, I asked that my portion be given to her since I wasn’t eating.

For every meal item served, Madam Fijabi consumed gluttonously without shame. Her tray table housed an array of nibbles and unquantifiable cups of juice.

Then the toilet visits began. Every 20 minutes, then 10, later 5. I knew what it was. She had caught food poisoning.

To prove my suspicion, she started throwing up and retching her intestines. It was a sorry and shitty sight.

The vomiting wouldn’t stop. By this time, her row and subsequent ones (including mine) had been cordoned off. We were reassigned other seats.

As I made way, the stench from the scene of stomach incontinence was disgusting to say the least.

The flight attendants, made an announcement for a doctor while indicating an emergency.

Madam Fijabi was jerking, screaming and having mouth and bowel movements intermittently. Horrible, is putting it mildly.

A doctor arrived the scene and she was stabilised. After being cleaned and the entire area cordoned off, she was moved to another section where an entire row was dedicated to her.

Madam Fijabi slept and we had peace. Aircraft was fumigated to reduce the stench and mitigate against spread of bacteria.

It was three hours to landing and another meal service was rendered. I still don’t know till date, if the timing was coincidental or if it was the aroma from the food carts that woke her up.

Madam Fijabi I of Ijongbon kingdom, roused from sleep as soon as the carts were by her row and demanded for her portion of meal.

Yes, you read so. For someone who barely two hours ago, nearly died of food poisoning, she demanded for her fundamental right of grub.

As soon as I heard her say, “I paid for it”, I muttered, Jesus, please take the wheels…

All entreaties to make her see reason not to further consume food fell on deaf ears. She had her way …

We landed and I was going to give this obnoxious woman a piece of my mind but then I thought to myself, why exchange words with a mad woman?

As we filed out of the aircraft, I saw the unmistakable shiny foil wrapper of the meal pack in her hand bag but said nothing to her.

A particular question of “do you have beef or beef products on you?” by customs reverberated through my mind.

I smiled deviously. Someone was going to get blacklisted.

Welcome to America ! I said to the armophous woman at the terminal building as I made to face my own business of immigration clearance.

The US customs on sighting her meal pack, will surely teach her lessons on how not to be greedy.

Wetin. Consign. Me?