Back in mid-October, my best friend and I were in Lagos, drinking copious amounts of liquor in the middle of week (it was a Wednesday, I think). We were approached by three Italian guys (we’ll call them Ben, Al and Joe) who were dead-set on talking to us, even though only one of them spoke a decent amount of English, and neither Mali nor I speaks Italian.
We chatted with Ben, the fluent English speaker, while Al stared longingly (creepily) at us, trying to join in on the conversation despite our lack of a common language. But he was polite enough to us, so we were willing to oblige, at least for as long as our large drinks would last.
That was until Joe decided to join the fray.