Title: “How I Survived a Nigerian Wedding (Barely)”

Let me tell you about the time I attended a Nigerian wedding and almost didn’t make it out—emotionally, physically, and gastronomically.

First, I showed up at 9:45 AM for a 10 AM wedding. Rookie mistake. The actual wedding started around 1 PM. By then, I had memorized every pattern on the event hall ceiling.

Then there was the Aso Ebi drama. I didn’t get the matching fabric memo, so I looked like someone’s long-lost cousin who wandered in by mistake.

During the reception, I was dragged into the dance circle. I thought I was killing it until someone started spraying money. I panicked and picked it up. Apparently, that’s not allowed. I’m now known as “Money Collector.”

And the food? Oh, the food. It came in waves—brief, glorious waves. I chased puff-puff like it was a Black Friday deal. Still didn’t get any.

I survived, barely. But next time? I’m wearing Aso Ebi, bringing my own jollof, and arriving at noon—sharpish.