• Nervous Breakdown in Big Mango Cafe

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  • Nervous Breakdown in Big Mango Cafe
  • Posted by: Lalanii, June 4, 2015
  • I thought I was going to die. I stopped breathing. I was in shock. You know that feeling when your body goes into second nature reactionary whatever? Yea, that’s the feeling I had. 

    Let me go back. I am heading to the cafe as usual, to meet clients, to write, etc. This particular one, cute as EVER EVER. Playa Vista’s Big Mango Cafe. 

    With three sets of horizontal couches, an oversized big screen, a tall communal table, a handcrafted soda machine and two of the nicest workers I’ve ever experienced… Yes, this situation was looking good upon arrival. They walked me through my selection process, some yum stuff: mango salad mix, some pasta (I probably should not order) and a hazelnut latte. 

    I get to the register. I reach in my laptop bag, and my wallet is GONE. 

    When I say gone, I mean like nothing in there but laptop pens notepad - nothing I need to pay for this meal I just ordered! OMFG! 

    So my heart is beating so quickly yet… I tell the barista who is giving me the uh oh face that I’m going to run to my car, grab my wallet and if he could just hold my order. It went like this: 

    “Wait, hold up, my wallet, my car. Wait ima be right back, I left my…”

    It wasn’t English. By this time, I am panicking because I can’t remember the last time I’d seen my wallet. I am sifting through my bag like a fanatic. I am throwing things from the front of my car to the back — losing my natural sh*t. I am rummaging through my bag like a maniac. 

    I speed off in my car. It MUST be at home. 

    Barely stopping at lights, I have broken into a full sweat now. I get to my house. By this time my entire back is sweating profusely. No, it isn’t on my nightstand. No, not under the bed, behind the ballast. The makeup mirror, my vanity desk, no, no, nope. 

    Ok ok, in the dirty clothes. The sheets I changed last night — perfect, it got mixed in there, I run down my hallway to the laundry room. I grab at the floor like a helpless. No. Not there. 

    Please, please. I think about my client on Sunday, sh*t! What if I left it at the restaurant? My heart is racing now. 

    I thought I was going to die. I stopped breathing. I was in shock. You know that feeling when your body goes into second- nature reactionary whatever? Yea, that’s the feeling I had.

    I am fluffing up the covers, I get sprawled out on the floor in panic and then tears start rolling down my face because I start thinking about having to go to the DMV, the banks to cancel cards, my business meetings I have today, so much to do. Face hot and red now, tears are streaming. 

    I am now a 31 year old woman, crying in the hallway over a lost wallet. 

    Clearly, there are other issues. 

    I run back down to the car to unpack my stuff to prepare to crawl back into my bed in my slump of fuckeduppedness. I can’t go anywhere; I can’t do anything, no wallet. Before I slump down in reservation… I call the restaurant I last remember my wallet. A girl answers. 

    “Hey, hi, I was there, uhm Sunday and I lost. I left my wallet, it didn’t have any money in it so nobody would have wanted it! No what I’m trying to say is there was no cash, I know it’s two days later but maybe somebody!!! Somebody would have?”

    “Ok, you were here Sunday?”

    “I was there on Sunday we sat on the side booth and a girl with purple hair waited on us — AHHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHH! I’m sorry”

    “You found it?”

    “I found it.” 

    “Thank you!!! Thank you for answering and listening to my nervous breakdown.” 

    As I sifted the side pocket of my bag in the back of my car, the wallet was there. Who put my wallet in the side pocket though? I hang up the phone. 

    Anyway, I race back to the cafe with the cute barista who smiled and who then threw his hands up like wha’ happened. I shake my head.

    “My wallet wasn’t in my car, and then it was.

    Confused look, he gives me. 

    “I went all the way home and it really was in the back of my car like I thought.”

    “Ah” he says. 

    Then he tells me he saw me walk to my car and then he saw my car speed off and he said ah well. That was actually funny to me.

    I order the most delicious Strawberry and Feta salad (holding the cheese no bubble guts — I’m lactose) and the pasta, because now, I really deserve it. 

    I tip him biggle (a little big) because after all I really did just have a nervous breakdown in his cafe and he was there to bear witness the lighter half of the event. I will say though, the salad, latte, and pasta was most exquisite — two hours later. Do you see the little pieces of kiwi up there? LAwwwwd ha’ mercy. 

    That being said… 

    Tadaaa! The dressing wasn’t great, so get it on the side, perhaps a sweeter vinegary one would suffice. I got mine on the side, but I dumped it all in before tasting. Like I said. Issues. 

    Strawberry Feta Salad (no feta, lol)

    Big Mango Cafe (not during rush hour, at lunch time good luck)

    The little plates aesthetically stacked like-so. It really does it for me. 

    Big Mango Cafe (not during rush hour, at lunch time good luck)

    Call ahead for yum during rush hour. When I first got there and realized my wallet was gone it was empty — ghost house. When I came back from my nutcase-attack - it was a packed house. 

    Handcrafted Beverages - Maineroot.com

    I liked them alllllllll. 


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