Living in Lagos is like being in an action movie without knowing your role. Every day na new scene. This morning, I enter danfo, and I knew the devil was active when the conductor said, “Enter with your change o!”

I enter with hope. Just ₦1k for a ₦400 fare. Simple, right? Wrong. Conductor look me like I offend his ancestors. He said, “Na who go change am? Abi you wan buy the bus?”

Before I fit talk, one passenger don push me small. Another one dey shout “Hold something!” like we be in war. That was when the bus moved like we dey chase fuel subsidy.

Midway, driver jam traffic. He hiss, turn to third mainland like say na his father's estate. No notice. No update. Just vibes and diesel smell.

Finally reach my stop, I squeeze out with muscles I didn’t know I had. I check my phone—10 missed calls, 1 GB data gone, and somehow, my shirt tear small.

Lagos no be city. Na real-life gym, comedy show, and prayer retreat—combined.