Offshore Africa stories

If he had been longer he would have gone into the business lounge, but he honestly couldn’t be arsed with the “people watching” in their, the assholes on their phones have desperately loud important conversations, that were a snapshot of how fucked up the corporate world was, the desperation in the voices about some pathetic report to the management that was late and heads rolling etc etc. God, how he really hated all the BS and in the business lounge there was more than he could accept, so he didn’t bother unless he wanted food and alcohol, and presently he didn’t.

It was a long flight and topping up “a skinful” absorbed here, would mean landing the worse for wear which you really couldn’t afford to do where he was going, you needed your wits about you.

He watched the screens, moved towards the gate, checked his app to make sure he was ahead of the pack when it came to getting the gate right, and took a seat near the departures gate which didn’t yet have the flight displayed.

The usual suspects were there, the guys who played this game all the time, the half man, half airplane seat dudes, the gold class….

“Yo, Dave, how is it!?”

“Oh, Shit! There goes my quiet flight down to Lagos…”

“Hi, Moussa!”

Moussa lumbered across the gate area and sat down next to Dave. He was one of these guys, dripping in gold chains and rings, with a very African Vibe going on with his attire, a huge massive smile, setting off his perfect large white teeth, against his blue black skin, very Nigerian. The fact he was a big guy, over 6 foot tall meant you didn’t forget him in a hurry. He was also smart as a tack, with a perfect memory and he could drink most people under the table…

Dave was on 1st name terms, with this important “Mr Fixit”, who seemed to know everyone in Lagos and Port Harcourt, who had any dealings with the Oil Business and not just anyone had that right. But due to one epic all night drinking session in the Hilton Hotel Lagos, Dave had earned that right.

On his day Dave could be an epic drinker, but lately he had been having blackouts well more than usual, so he was going to be easing back a bit and he had other things on his mind. But about 6 months ago he had been on form, and was the last man standing out of the usual Expat Lagos crowd of “Flight Crews, Transient Oil Scum like himself and the usual suspects of the Nigerian Oil moves and shakers.

“Dave you remember that night?”

“Well, most of it…”

“You remember betting the flight crew you could get the panties off at least one of them? You made 200 dollars, man…”