MIA to CDG

I’m here. On the flight to Paris. Sitting in 30j.
On the way here Antie told me I needed a visa to travel to France. In the car. On the way to the airport. Yo the thoughts going thru my head…

But I couldn’t. I owe her.

Wednesday I came up from KW and was able to meet Antie Foluke. She’s staying in the zoo. Has no idea what she’s hip against with those boys but she’ll soon find out. She already is.
Thurs we kick it at the house. Antie T asks how I got my Nigerian visa..

?!??

From all I’ve read (albeit rather limited), I didn’t need one from America. Only if I were coming from Nigeria. She laughs and thinks I’m joking.. 😑:?😬

I’m getting nervous.

The third website I read confirm what Antie says. I indeed need a visa for the flight I’m taking. Tomorrow. There’s no way I can get a visa from France since I have to mail the passport to a consulate in the States.

Fuck

I’ve wasted all that money trying to go to Nigeria. My mother’s word keep echoing in my head. She not only didn’t want me to go, but now all the negative feelings she’s had smoothing going has manifested itself into an obstacle.

What can I do?
I’m caught in my tracks. I won’t be able to see uncle Tayo. Or meet uncle D (who I corresponded with for the first time ever thanks to WhatsApp. I won’t be able to see grandma and I may never see grandpa again. His health is failing and he just suffered a fracture after a fall he took.

Fuck fuck

Antie T is doing her usual yelling on the phone talking to someone in Nigeria. The fact she’s on the phone with someone I won’t have the opportunity to see enrages me silently. It creeps up my right leg into my gut.
That feeling of letting others down. I’ve been telling uncle Tayo I was coming for weeks now. Just because I dropped all that money doesn’t mean a thing. Without a visa, my 24 day trip is shedding a lot of time.

How do I go back to KW after 10 days?  I already start making excuses about how things got bad in 9ja and had to cut the flight early.
Fuck you media… But thanks for making an out for me.

Now my aunt is pissing me off. She’s telling 9ja I didn’t get a visa. She couldn’t wait for the next day to start all this?
I’m starting to seethe underneath. I’m looking at her with malice as she laughs at my expense.

How could she not have asked me weeks ago? Even before I came up? Why THE DAY BEFORE I’M SCHEDULED TO LEAVE?

She gets off the phone and calls me over. Not in the mood at all but I comply. Antie T tells me she spoke with someone and I need to get the application started online asap. She gets in touch with the Nigerian consulate and he’s going to help us.
How?
The flight is tomorrow and the closest consulate is in Atlanta. The only person we could ask to help get to the consulate is…
Ma
That’s a useless option.

I finish the online app, not hoping for the best, but not assuming the worst. Looking at the facts, this is a daunting challenge.
I end up having to mail my passport to the consulate.
No Paris for me.
This woke trip may be a bust

My departure day comes and not only do I have no visa, I shipped my passport to someone who may not send it back in time. It takes a couple of weeks for visa approval.

But I bought trip insurance! I can still change the flight with no charge. I just need to get in contact with the travel agent.
I call. Antie calls (with a lot more gusto) but to no avail. only I wasted that 100bux.

More news

If I change the flight, it’ll be an additional 300 to shell out. Impossible.
Antie suggests I go to the airport and see about changing the flight. “They like when you show up and miss the flight dad as opposed to calling.

Getting to the airport changed my attitude about this trip.

After a bit of schmoozing and pleading, the ladies let me change my flight to the next day. No charge.

NO CHARGE

This could work!

I return with the news of my triumphant flight change. Antie tells me she received a sms from the consulate saying he received the package. Now my favorite past time…

The waiting game

How I wish I woke up at 11 so as to only have an hour to wait for the hopeful delivery. Of course not. I wake up bushy tailed at 7:30. Still on the” more optimistic than neutral ” side of the ordeal.
Uncle Ayo reminds me to be patient since things can happen when it comes to mailing things so far.
I leave the house to get my mind off things.
Meet up with Candace and kick it close to downtown for some time. On my way back, I even stop by the post office to see if maybe it could be collected before they close early (Saturday) but unfortunately this isn’t the post office that delivers to their house.
I call on my way to the house and no delivery has been reported. They may still deliver after the p.o. closes so don’t lose hope.
Time passes.
Nothing.
Ore asks if has checked the mailbox.
The mailbox! Maybe no one has to sign for it.
Seeing the corner of that folded express mail envelope has been the most exciting moment in a very, very long time.
My passport is in there, complete with visa. And a flight 3hrs away waits me…

I’m here. On the flight to Paris. Sitting in 30j😂😂😂😂