Lagos nightlife for those with means is not for the faint-hearted. On what she thought would be one of her worst birthdays — broke, bored, and with no plans — Queen ended up having the wildest night of her life in Lagos.
By a random stroke of luck, she linked up with a group of Lagos party monsters, and between 8:30 p.m. and 8:00 a.m. the next day, she hit eight locations: a house party, a bachelorette, four clubs, a bar, and finally, a Chinese restaurant.
This is Queen’s wildest Lagos night as told to Dennis
It was the 27th of December. I remember the date because it was my birthday, and I had no plans. Earlier that day, I’d posted about it on a matchmaking WhatsApp group I belonged to. It was the kind of group where you joined, introduced yourself, and waited to see who might be interested. If someone liked you, they’d let you know and the conversation would move to a private chat.
So it wasn’t a group I checked often. I didn’t even post comments. But my birthday was almost over, and I still had nothing planned. My friends had travelled. I was alone, bored, and broke. So I went on the group to respond to the birthday wishes I had gotten. It was the least I could do.
“What plans do you have?” someone asked. I knew it was an invitation, so I said “none,” and he suggested I come to a house party the group was throwing somewhere in Lekki. It was the group’s end-of-year party. Some members had made donations to put it together.
I threw on a slinky black dress, wore fancy flats and did a light beat, just enough to cover my blemishes.
At 8:30 p.m., my Uber arrived.
First party: House party, Lekki, 10 p.m.
Strippers dressed as naughty nurses greeted me at the door of the house party. One held a syringe filled with alcohol. There was no way I was allowing that in my mouth, so I declined. But she wouldn’t let go without a fight. She protested. She insisted. I told her I would need a new syringe, and she opened a new one right in front of me. Finally, I took the drink. She gave me a glowing glass, and I went in to sit.
On one side of the house, barbecue turkey was spread across a tray. On another, boys were playing table tennis. I sat with the ladies. As the music got louder, the strippers began to dance. The big ballers stood up to let money rain — some of them IJGBs (I Just Got Backs), all of them men.
Later, the men started calling girls to the centre to dance. I hoped someone would ask me, because the men sprayed the ladies’ money as they danced. A man I had never met, but who had been staring at me since I sat, eventually asked. He didn’t have cash, but he later made a transfer of ₦30k to my account.
One of the ladies had been smiling at me, so I smiled back. I started dancing and she danced along. I took out my phone to make Snapchat videos and she smiled into the camera. Her name was Ugo. She was at the party with a friend, who was a famous celebrity.
Later, they went outside and I went back to my seat. There were no games to play at the party. No charades. No spin the bottle. The party was getting dull, so I went to meet Ugo outside. She was speaking with two guys and the celebrity. One was a famous hype man and event MC. The other was a wealthy tech bro.
They were tired of the party, too. Ugo said her friend was having a bachelorette party and wanted to go there for a while. The hypeman said he had other spots to visit. I told them I was free and down for more parties. So I jumped in the celebrity’s car with Ugo. The two guys drove behind us to the bachelorette party.
WATCH: My First Time at a Strip Club
Second party: Bachelorette party, Lekki, 12:45 a.m.
Ugo had told the bride she was coming, but she hadn’t told her she was coming in two cars. So the estate security stopped us. The code to enter had expired. Ugo was dialling the bride’s number, but she wasn’t picking.
By some stroke of luck, they eventually allowed us in. At the bride’s house, two bouncers stood unsure about letting us through. The hypeman and tech bro were told it was a female-only event, so they had no hope of entering.
It was a pyjamas-themed party and I was wearing a black dress. Later, the bride came out, apologised, and allowed Ugo and I in. At the door, we took a shot.
The bride was hosting at her house, but for the night, it had been transformed into a dominatrix-style sex parlour. There were naughty quotes written on cardboard cutouts and sex toys everywhere, especially dildos. Black dildos, fat dildos, dildos of all shapes and sizes.
A single male stripper stood at the centre dancing with the ladies. Later, they gave the bride sex advice. Each person took turns telling her what to do. But there was one thing they warned her against: vanilla missionary sex. “Don’t do missionary!” somebody shouted.
All this time, Ugo’s phone kept beeping. It was the guys. They had been waiting in the car and were now asking us to come and meet them. The hypeman said he had another club to be at and that they couldn’t just sit waiting in the car like that.
So we decided to go with them.
Third party: Ikoyi, 1:30 a.m.
We went to a supermarket in Ikoyi — or so I thought. My Lagos nightlife experience has only just begun. People were shopping for groceries, but we didn’t buy anything. Instead, we walked down the aisles toward what I assumed was the other exit, and that’s when we saw two bouncers guarding a door.
We didn’t speak much. One of the guys spoke to the bouncers. They checked something on a tablet, gave us tags and face masks, and let us in.
“Remember,” the hypeman said, “this isn’t the kind of place you come to and tell everybody about.”
Immediately, we were in a new world. It wasn’t clear if the people working were strippers, or servers, or both. But everyone who wasn’t a guest was almost naked. The girls wore two-piece lingerie and high heels. The boys wore sexy boxer briefs. You could tell this was for the crème de la crème of Lagos. The strippers were some of the finest people I had ever seen.
The hypeman found the person he came to meet, and we took our seats at a table. The people here didn’t dance. They didn’t wear jeans or sneakers. Some wore polo shirts, but most were in trad. They sat and drank. I left my mask on. Some of the men took theirs off and talked in hushed tones. I couldn’t hear, but I knew deals were being made.
We didn’t place orders. We didn’t pay for anything. Till today, I still don’t know how the bill was settled. The waiters walked around with drinks and we took whatever we wanted. I went with champagne.
We had been there for almost an hour when the tech bro’s phone started to ring. It was his colleagues. They had an all-night end-of-year party and wanted him there. Even the CEO of the company was texting. But the vibe here was low. Just soft music and drinks. It felt boring. I felt out of place. I liked the idea of mingling with these people, but that wasn’t what tonight was about.
Tonight was about fun. So we left.
Fourth party: COVA Lounge, VI — lost track of time
At the entrance of COVA Lounge, parking was a problem. It’s always a problem. I had been to COVA before, so I knew what to expect. Inside, when the loud music hit my ears, I felt alive again. Ugo and the celebrity were tired. They wanted somewhere to sit. But with music like this, I could stand all night.
I was already dancing. I told the group I was fine. Eventually, we found the tech bro’s colleagues at a spot near the DJ. It was DJ Commissioner Wysei. Ugo and the celebrity found chairs and took off their heels. I was wearing flats.
The tech bro introduced us to his colleagues. I also worked in tech, so we had a lot to talk about.
I didn’t drink alcohol. I had been mixing too much. Instead, I poured a bottle of Coke into a cup and sipped that. People don’t really know what others drink at parties like this. You might think it’s Hennessy, but it could just be water.
Later, one of the guys began spraying me as I danced. When I counted it later, it was ₦20k.
A friend of the tech bro was pointing at me. He had another party to attend. The tech bro told him the ladies were tired and wanted to go home. His friend replied, “She doesn’t look tired.” Then he asked if we wanted to attend another party. I reminded him it was my birthday — and I was down for more parties.
They said we were heading to Lekki. Ugo and the celebrity said they lived in Lekki and would go home after. So we left.
Fifth party: Kohinoor, Lekki
When we walked into Kohinoor, a lounge in Lekki, there was excitement in the air. The guys were happy to see us. It had been just guys and one girl, but with us, there were now four girls in the group. They were all IJGBs. They were having a small meet-up.
I had never been to Kohinoor this late at night. I had first been there with a group called Lagos Foodie Association. We’d go to popular spots to check the vibes, order food, and do activities. The usual. I didn’t like it back then because the music wasn’t loud. But at night, it was louder — and it felt more like home for me.
I was hungry at this point, so I ordered shawarma and puffed some shisha. They had games, too, so we played ayo and card games.
By 4:30 a.m., Ugo said she was ready to head home. The celebrity friend drove her. I stayed back and hung out with the guys. Someone mentioned checking out a club called Secret Palace, so we headed out.
There were only two ladies left, the girl we had met at Kohinoor and me
Sixth party: Secret Palace, Lekki
Outside Secret Palace, the parking lot was packed with luxury cars. There were the usual G-Wagons and Audis, but also cars I didn’t even know existed in Nigeria — Aston Martins and Lamborghinis dotted the area.
I had been here before, so I knew what to expect. It was reservation-only. We hadn’t made any, which meant our entry would depend on how we looked. One bouncer asked why my shoes were so low — I was in flats — and they bounced me first.
This had happened to me before: I wore sandals to a club, and a friend wore slippers, and we were bounced. After we posted about it on Instagram, they apologised.
Secret Palace thrives on exclusivity. They’re known for hosting celebrities. It’s where Wizkid goes when he’s in Lagos. But the guys weren’t feeling it. They were also having a hard time getting in, so we decided to head to Quilox instead.
Seventh party: Quilox, VI, 5:00 a.m.
By 5 a.m., people were still arriving at Quilox. Lagos nightlife is not for the faint hearted. Never stand between a Nigerian and their party. The parking space was full, so one of the guys parked by the roadside.
At this time of day — and in December — we shouldn’t have been able to get a table. But they looked at the group and gave us a table near the door. They brought the drinks with lights sparkling. The guys ordered Azul and champagne. I never pass on champagne, so I drank that. But I didn’t touch the Azul. I was with guys I had never met, and I’d been drinking all night. I needed to stay alert.
Other ladies joined our table. We danced and vibed. The guys started spraying money. One of them — clearly trying to impress me — sprayed me. When I counted it later, it was ₦50k. I wanted to pick the money the others had sprayed on the floor too, but I couldn’t spoil my steeze.
They had fun. I had fun. Quilox was good — the perfect conclusion to a wild night. Later, one of the guys said he was hungry. Someone else mentioned a Chinese restaurant in VI, close to Quilox, and we decided to go.
When we got to the car, the side mirror was broken. But after a night like that — loud music, drinks, parties and girls — the last thing you’re worried about is a side mirror.
Eighth party: Chinese restaurant, 6 a.m.
When we got to the restaurant, I took off my shoes. My legs had started to hurt at Quilox, but I didn’t say anything — I didn’t want to spoil the vibe. I had to match the energy. The music had kept me going.
We ordered Chinese and chatted. They said they’d invite me if they had other places to go in the future. The hypeman looked at me. I looked at the tech bro. We had shared a wild night — and we both knew it. We’ve experienced Lagos nightlife.
At 8 a.m., I ordered an Uber home. In the Uber, I counted the money. I had ₦70k in cash. Plus the ₦30k transfer, I had made ₦100k in one night. I had been paid to have fun.
I saved all my videos on Snapchat. On slow days, I watch them to remind myself that once, I had so much fun my legs hurt. I looked out the window into the morning light on the drive home. I had just had one of the best birthdays of my life — with strangers. And I was fulfilled. I was happy. I was thankful.
