London girl goes to Nigeria

My people,
    how una dey? everything ok?. The other time, I told you guys that I had moved to London. What I didn't tell you was that I came for my Masters degree program. It has not been easy, the library has become my abode. This is the reason I've been unfaithful to this blog, hopefully, things will get easier.
On the 13th of December, 2012, (I still remember the date vividly because it cost me so much to change my ticket and it is still 'paining' me), I packed my luggage, and as early as 5:30am, I was headed for the Heathrow airport. I was too excited, I missed my family and friends so much, I just wanted to be home. I couldn't sleep or concentrate on any of the movies on the plane. The mother and daughter who sat next to me made matters worse. I had to keep getting up for them to go pee, plus the girl kept trying to make conversation and she was a heavily accented Yoruba speaker. I didn't understand most of the things she was saying. I kept checking how many hours we had left, I wanted to be out, felt like I was going to explode.
'Welcome to the Murtala Mohammed Airport'. I sat up in glee. The heat that came rushing as we stepped out, *sigh* I cannot describe. This is Nigeria, where there's no functioning air conditioner in an international airport. I was sweating profusely. Believe me, I am not exaggerating, I got my luggage after 2 hours, they were probably waiting for us to bribe them to let our bags come out.  The rest of the night was beautiful, met up with my people and had a huge dinner (after 2 months of hardcore diet, it was a big deal).

I was told that Lagos BRT buses are just like London buses, they both use oyster cards, et al and sadly I believed. Dressed up, wore my platforms, I was looking all 'fine girl' with all my jand freshness. hmmn, you don't want to know what happened . Lemme gaan baff, I shall continue the gist soon.