Acai Ya Later

I was getting ready to take the train home from my friend, Chriss’s house, when suddenly, I had a hankering for an acai bowl.

I began pulling out ingredients: strawberries, blueberries, almond milk, bananas.

It was all going so well, until…

“Chriss, where’s your peanut butter?” I asked, scouring her cupboards.

Chriss peered over my shoulder. “Hmm,” she said. “I guess we’re out.”

OUT OF PEANUT BUTTER?!

Was she a lunatic?

Fortunately, there was a smoothie place a mile from her house and my train didn’t leave until 1:49.

I walked into Juice it Up! at 1:06.

(Sidenote: I admire shops that have an exclamation point in their name. It feels like they care a little more.)

“I’ll have two acai berry bowls,” I told the elderly man who took my order.

I gave Chriss, who was waiting in the car outside, a thumbs up.

The man handed my order to a younger woman, who began pouring concoctions into the blender.

She had three blenders going at once.

This woman knew how to JUICE! IT! UP!

Meanwhile, the man just stood there.

I didn’t want to tell him how to do his job, but maybe he could do a little chopping while his co-worker was blending?

I checked my watch.

1:12.

The blender whirled.

The man smiled. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” I said.

More whirling, more smiling.

Sadly, no chopping.

Finally, the woman poured the smoothie mixture into two bowls and set it on the counter.

1:18.

I was starting to sweat.

The man stared at the bowls.

Then he studied the photo of the Acai Berry Bowl, hanging from the wall.

He eyed the containers of fruit.

He glanced back at the picture.

IT’S STRAWBERRIES AND BANANAS! STOP LOOKING AT YOUR FRUIT CLIFF NOTES AND START CHOPPING!

I took a breath, trying to remain calm. 

I didn’t complain.

After all, I had once been a waitress.

Quite possibly, World’s Worst Waitress.

I worked at Marie Calendars in the late 80’s and if I ever waited on you, let me just say, I’m sorry, and your pot pie should be out shortly.

The man sliced strawberries.

Slicing implies a quick movement.

The man sculpted strawberries.

1:26.

Once the strawberries were chiseled to perfection, he strategically placed them in the bowl.

Then he studied the picture on the wall again.

BANANAS COMES NEXT! THERE’S ONLY TWO INGREDIENTS! HOW DID YOU PASS YOUR JUICE IT UP EXAM?!

If I thought I was going to die a slow, painful death over the strawberries, the banana preparation took it to a whole new level.

The manner in which he peeled the banana could only be described as…

Tenderly.

Which is all fine and good, except…

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP UNDRESSING MY BANANA! JUST RIP IT OFF! NEVERMIND, I’LL EAT THE PEEL!

1:33.

When he adorned the acai bowls with the last banana slice, he picked up a dispenser of agave or arsenic (at this point, who cares) and drizzled it over the top.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing into the back room.

NOOOOOOOOOO!

He returned with a cardboard container.

1:36.

He secured the bowls into the containers as if they were life-saving organs about to be transported.

He smiled and held up his masterpiece, which I grabbed.

“They look delicious!” I yelled, running out the door and jumping into Chriss’s car.

1:39.

The train station was 10 minutes away.

Chriss accelerated down main roads, swerving around corners, barely avoiding near death collisions.

She was The Fast and The Furious, Dukes of Hazzard, and Herbie Fully Loaded, all rolled into one.

“Don’t worry,” she yelled as we sped past a semi. “The train will probably be late.”

No, Chriss, the train is only late if you’re early.

We screeched into the parking lot at 1:47.

I grabbed my backpack, purse, and acai bowl. Chriss pulled out my suitcase.

The train was already there.

On the far track. 

That meant, we had to sprint up 3 flights of stairs, run over a bridge, and then race down another set of stairs.

It’s fun to run in flip-flops!

“Irvine Train Passengers, Last Call!” the conductor announced over the loudspeaker.

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!” I holler-begged, as I ran toward the train employee who was standing on the platform and yelling, “DOORS ARE CLOSING!”

The Train Man shook his head at me in utter disappointment. “Hurry up,” he said, ushering me on the train.

“Just a minute,” I said, looking around frantically. “My friend has my suitcase.”

He shook his head again.

Chriss, he’s not happy with you either.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“She’s coming, I swear! She’s just not as fast as me,” I said, and then added. “She’s disabled.”

That’s when Chriss came barreling down the stairs, my suitcase in one hand, high over her head, as if charging into battle.

The Train Man rolled his eyes and sighed because I was late AND a liar.

But the good news was Chriss passed off my suitcase like a champ and I made my train.

More importantly, I got to enjoy “World’s Most Beautiful Acai Bowl.”

I just wish they hadn’t forgotten the peanut butter.