It was mad the last time I went to the filling station to get some petrol for my Car.
I still can't tell if it was luck or skill that made me leave without a dent or a scratch.
There were no proper lines. There was either a human being, some empty gallons, or a car in every available space in and around the filling station.
And the fights; mature men, with latest SUVs exchanging words and other times punches with every provocation.
And in such moments, one can't differentiate rich Nigerians from Poor Nigerians as they demonstrate their frustration and tiredness by trying to jump the queue or ensuring that no one does.