I love Lagos! Every weekend, there are hundreds of wedding receptions. To a bachelor, that means innumerable opportunities for free food. Benjie and I have devised the best disguise – colored caps. Every wedding has aso ebi, so we have caps in current aso ebi colors – fuchsia, navy blue, even magenta. Review a copy of City Vibes on a newsstand and you’ll discover what colors are popping for the season. So, on Saturday, put on your plain guinea brocade buba and Sokoto, a stack of caps, and head out.

“Oga, where’s your invitation?” The man mountain blocked the doors of the reception hall. He selected random guests for their invites. Benji got in. I followed him. Mountain man pushed me back. Every time he opened the door, I was hit by a savory blast of asun and the pounding bass of “Chop my Money.” All I wanted to do was chop some party jollof rice. And perhaps amala and gbegiri.

“My friend has it. He already went in.” When he still wouldn’t budge, I touched my chocolate brown cap, “I’m with the groom’s family.”

At the next wedding, I exchanged the brown cap for teal. There was no bouncer. Guests were streaming through the double doors of the reception hall. As I elbowed my way in, my cap fell. I scrambled to catch it before it hit the dust. Suddenly, a lady slapped me. “How dare you? You think you can be groping me for fun?”

“Ma am, I didn’t touch you on purpose. My cap fell.” I tried to explain waving two caps at her. Wrong move.

“Is that not your cap you’re holding? Is that not your cap you’re holding?” She asked twice for emphasis gripping my shirt front. “Wait till my husband hears.”

I began to beg. There was no reason to get beaten up over a plate of jollof rice. And really, by the looks of the crowd at this wedding, it will be a miracle if I got a grain of rice. “Anti mi!”

She got distracted greeting her relative. I got away. There are times free food isn’t free. Today was one of those days. I headed home. I’d get iyan and egusi from Mummy Ayo’s buka. That would calm my nerves.

I hailed a bike as the same time a frazzled lady laid a hand on my shoulder. “There you are. We’ve been waiting for you.” I looked from the top of the cobalt blue gele to the tips of her gold shoes. She was clearly dressed for a wedding not a mental asylum. I looked around and saw groomsmen lined up outside the reception hall for their grand entrance. The lady was probably one of those older cousins roped in to wedding coordinator duties. I shook my head.

I was about to walk away when I heard, “Lagos Boy, oya now.” The second groomsman was waving at me. I walked over to Seyi, a dance bud. He slapped me on the back then stepped close and whispered, “Look, one of the groomsmen has gone awol. Fill in for him and I’ll settle you later.” No need to tell me twice.

“Money follow you, banana follow you…’cause I’m in love with you o,” Davido crooned as I tap-tap-slid into the reception hall. I ate ewa agahin, designer stew, amala, gbegiri… Name it, I ate it. I busted serious moves on the dance floor and even got sprayed enough money to replace my teal cap.