I’ve had my fair share but this has to be to the most memorable by far. It shall be a great disservice to the collection of my memoirs if I consider it unworthy to put down in black and white the event of the night I have come to regard as my greatest one-night stand of all One fact unarguably abated my uneasiness. There was this sense of guilt about my shameless search for the elusive sleep. The hotel room was the furthest place I ought to be found at that hour on that day.
An Asun nite which was part of the College 50th anniversary program I officially came for was going on in the College quadrangle just a stone throw from the Guest house I was lodged. The Provost himself was going to be on ground and being a Student leader, it was improper for me to be conspicuously absent. Nothing exciting deserved to happen that night anymore for me. I’d passed the Quadrangle on my way to the Guest house two hours ealier.
The venue was peopled with over a thousand students dancing to the loud music blaring from loudspeakers stationed strategically all over the venue. It was bubbling. I was indifferent. I was coming from having my first meal of the day so I only looked on tiredly making sure I was careful enough to evade known faces. But here I was in the room and unable to lose consciousness to sleep like any normal person should.
I have lied down in the bed restlessly for two long hours and even sought Adele’s soothing voice to lull me away.Nothing seemed to work. My ordeal had begun at 9pm and it usually takes a miracle for me to sleep before 12 midnight. I was jolted to consciousness by a text message notification. The burr burr sound rudely interrupted my reverie. I lazily reached for my phone beside the pillow. It was a message from my network provider.
I cussed under my breathe. MTN had to conspire with sleep to punish me this much? In deviance, I dialed Ishola’s number. He is my closest buddy at the Quadrangle and probably the only one I didn’t want to disappoint with my absence. He didn’t wait for the phone to ring before picking up. “Where the fuck are you La?”, he bellowed. I got the picture in my head instantly. Booze, girls, music, old friends, gists. It suddenly felt like a sin to admit I was indoor. “Close to the Quandrangle. Where re you guys seated?”
A table with an excellent view of the centre stage was assured from the fair description I managed to glean from his raucous effort.
To be continued…