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On a Friday Night in 2012, a young man spends time with a beautiful beauty queen, 1 good cop and other men with bad intentions...

The day was September 27. It was a Friday. The time was 11pm and I was in a cab cruising towards Victoria Garden City (VGC) in Lagos for a late meeting with a film director. Of course, I wasn�t driving the cab so while the cab driver concentrated on getting to his destination safely, I concentrated on something I was more interested in. It wasnt just something. It had a human form and was attractive. As the car rolled towards its destination, I settled into the warm company of the beautiful young lady who shared the back-seat with me. Her beauty was astonishing and so was her mind and I could barely tear my eyes off her enticing form and sensual appeal. The reason was simple  -She was a model; not just the average model but a beauty queen. Yes, she was a beauty queen from Osun State. I was the host and she was my royal guest.

When I suddenly noticed the cab driver pull off the road into a gas station for a refill, a strange feeling spread its cloak over me but I couldn�t precisely place the feeling so I let it go after the driver apologised for the slight delay in a very courteous voice.

In no time, my gaze, attention and interest returned to the intoxicating presence of the gorgeous princess who instantly colonized my thoughts. My mind was overtaken by the intoxicating aroma of possibilities that the rest of the night held.

Shortly after leaving the gas station, the cab cruised along on Ikorodu Road for the another 10 minutes or so until the driver suddenly pulled over again at a vulcaniser�s roadside workshop to work on his wheels. Once again, the odd feeling returned to me and the driver must have seen it on my face as he uttered the words (in Nigerian pidgin English):

When tranlated into English, this meant that he was sorry for the delay and that we wouldn�t have to wait for too long.

True to his words, after a few minutes, he was done and we resumed the drive towards VGC but just as we went past Marlyland, Palmgroove, National Stadium in Surulere and were on the Carter Bridge, I noticed the cab begin to lose speed. Within a minute, the cab had grounded to a halt on the dark bridge.

Lagos is not the safest city in the world and but not entirely dangerous either. Like other populated cities, it has its blessings and curses but as far as I was concerned, there was nothing romantic or sweet about a dark bridge, a technically broken cab and a pretty model with lines of worry tracing a map across her visage.

As expected, the driver ran a clumsy diagnosis on his car but still couldn�t get it to start.

Before I could say Jack Robinson, I suddenly noticed a dark silhouette of a male form slowly making his way towards the cab. I strained my eyes a little harder and in the dark outline of his hand, I saw a gun. From a very subconscious level, my shoulders instinctively assumed a squared dimension; with fists solidly clenched. By this time, I was standing outside the cab and as the man came into full view, I saw his police uniform and relief spread a welcoming blanket over me.

He courteously introduced himself as he laid emphasis on the fact that we were in safe hands. He assisted the cab driver with his technical knowledge of automobiles but after 30 minutes, we still couldn�t return life to the cab. It was a major bridge in Lagos and getting another cab proved as hard as getting the faulty cab to work.

However, mother luck eventually smiled on us when another cab pulled over for us. The cab driver and the cop negotiated the fare with the new driver.

I was really impressed by the cop�s protective conduct, I reached into my wallet and handed him a generous amount of money for his help just as I was climbing into the cab to join the beauty queen.

This time, it was a smooth ride all the way to VGC and the meeting was as smooth as my model company�s succulent skin. It went so well that at the end, I had over N100, 000 in my back pack.

At the end of the meeting, I stepped back into the cab and my darling princess looked straight at me and asked:

I looked deep into her stunning eyes, cupped her face in my palms, gave her a kiss that sent waves of pleasure coursing down my spine and replied:

Her eyes lit up with excitement, she smiled and returned the kiss; this time, it was more passionate than the first kiss.

I dropped the cash at home and ran into some of my cousins and family friends whose plan for the rest of the night coincided with mine; fun. The only difference was that while I had planned for a serene lounge or club, they insisted on late Fela Anikulapo Kuti�s �New Afrika Shrine.� Instantly, thoughts of wild-looking men and women puffing marijuana, enjoying loud music, drowning bottles of spirits and alcohol and many more uncertainties flooded my mind but I embraced optimism and tagged along.

It was a typical Friday night and Ikeja didn�t look or sound like a bad idea to spend the rest of the morning though I had strong reservations.

We got into the car and drove straight to the New Afrika Shrine. However, just as we were parking the car, we spotted a police van directly in front of us and the cop in the front seat manoeuvred the car as if he equally wanted to park the car.

However, contrary to our expectations, two armed policemen disembarked from the van and ordered all occupants of the car we were in to step out of the car without the slightest courtesy.

It was already past midnight yet the armed cops with bloodshot eyes insisted that we all stepped out of the car.

We had 4 guys and 2 beautiful young ladies in the car and the next thing we all heard was the boom of the cop�s voice:

Unfortunately, one of the ladies (unfortunately, it was my beautiful princess) did not carry an ID as she had naively dropped her bag at home. Ironically, while she became apparently nervous and scared, the cop�s eyes gleamed with excitement upon making this discovery.

If the lady in question was a call girl or a total stranger, the temptation to leave her to her fate would have been overwhelming but this was more than just a friend. She was... Let�s just go on with the narration.

All appeal to the cops fell on deaf ears as they marched her into their van, ordered her into the back of the van and threatened to drive off with her unless we did what they termed �settle.�

A look at the young lady�s face revealed another round of unadulterated fear.

We quickly weighed our options. We could call their bluff and let them take her away and drive to the �Area F Police Command� in Ikeja where the most senior officer said they were taking her (as a check revealed that the police van was actually branded Area F Police Command).

The alternative was to part with a bribe to facilitate her release but we had no idea how much they wanted as a bribe.

What if they drove off with her, took her to a deserted location and (God forbid) began to molest her sexually? I had personally listened to the confession of commercial sex workers. Many of their stories were about how policemen would arrest them, take them to a deserted location and forcefully have sex with them. What if the cops fell into the error of taking her for one of such girls?

All of a sudden, the Area F Police van began to move and in the blink of an eye, the cops were driving away with my beauty queen. I literally ran after the car. I had to run really fast before it got to a point where my feet would no longer be able to match the speed of the car. As I ran, the car suddenly grounded to a halt. I levelled up with the car and spoke to the driver with anger and irritation rising inside me like a test tube getting filled with poison. The driver happened to be the head of the police patrol team. I spoke directly to him and to be honest, I was no longer able to conceal my anger and it must have been visible when I asked:

Rather than give a reasonable response, he slowly turned his head away from the road and looked squarely at me and uttered just one word:

I got the message and asked him how much he wanted. he replied with:

I appealed for over 3 minutes before the dirty looking policemen reluctantly agreed to accept N3,000.

By the time they released my elegant sweetheart, she was visibly drained and traumatised and it was crystal clear that whatever plans we had to socialize in Lagos that beautiful night had been killed and buried by the �bribe-hungry� policemen from Area F Police Command. You can imagine how the rest of the night panned out.

Have you ever had any personal experience with good cops or bad cops in Lagos? Kindly let us know in the comment section.

Author: Samod Biobaku | Simply SAMAD

A special dedication to all men and women who have ever been harassed, intimidated or abused by officers of the Nigeria Police Force.

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