The Latte, The Lizard, and My Embarrassing Exit

It Started with Caffeine

Like any rational human being, I need coffee to function. Not just any coffee—a fancy, overpriced latte with oat milk because I like to pretend I’m sophisticated.

That morning, I strutted into my local café, already imagining the first glorious sip. I placed my order, and as I waited, I noticed something odd near the register.

A tiny green lizard.

It was staring at me. Not in a “Hey, I’m a cute little creature, let’s be friends” kind of way. No. This was a menacing stare, like the lizard was challenging me to a duel.

The Moment Things Went Downhill

Now, I’d love to tell you that I handled this with grace. That I simply ignored the lizard, grabbed my coffee, and left. But no. My brain, running on fumes, decided that the best course of action was to gently shoo it away.

Big mistake.

The lizard, obviously offended, launched itself toward me like a tiny, scaly ninja.

I panicked. And by “panicked,” I mean full-body flailed like I was fighting off an invisible swarm of bees. My arms swung wildly, and in one tragic motion, I managed to:

1. Knock over my fresh latte.

2. Knock over someone else’s fresh latte.

3. Knock over a napkin dispenser that hit a barista in the knee.

Public Humiliation: The Aftermath

For a solid three seconds, the café was silent. Nobody moved. It was as if time itself had paused to process the absurdity of what just happened.

Then, like a movie scene, every single person in the café turned to look at me—dripping in oat milk and shame.

The barista, bless his heart, simply blinked at me, probably deciding if this was worth yelling about. The guy whose latte I had sacrificed in the chaos just sighed, as if accepting that this was how his day was going now.

And the lizard? Oh, the lizard was fine. He was now sitting smugly on the counter, victorious. I swear I saw him smirk.

The Escape Plan (Or Lack Thereof)

At this point, I had two options:

1. Apologize profusely and attempt damage control.

2. Flee the scene like a guilty raccoon caught in a dumpster.

I chose option two.

In my desperate attempt to leave, I turned too quickly and—of course—slipped. Because apparently, coffee is very slippery when spilled all over the floor. I somehow recovered, mumbled something that might have been an apology, and sprinted out the door.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. The shame was too strong.

Lessons Learned

1. Lattes are expensive, and I should cherish them.

2. Lizards do not respond well to being shooed.

3. Maybe, just maybe, I should avoid that café for a while.

For the next few days, I walked an extra three blocks just to avoid passing that coffee shop. I even considered switching to tea, purely out of embarrassment. But let’s be real—I’m not that strong.

Post-Crisis Reflections

A week later, curiosity got the best of me. I casually strolled by the café, peeking inside to see if they had installed a Wanted poster with my face on it.

They had not.

In fact, nobody seemed to remember the Great Coffee Catastrophe except me. Life had moved on. And just like that, I realized something important:

Nobody actually cares about your embarrassing moments as much as you do.

Sure, I had caused a scene, but in the grand scheme of things, it was a fleeting moment in a day full of other distractions. The barista had probably already dealt with three worse incidents that week. The latte guy had moved on. And the lizard? Well, he was probably terrorizing someone else now.

Final Thoughts

Some people start their mornings with meditation and calm. I start mine by publicly embarrassing myself in coffee shops.

And honestly? At this point, it just feels like tradition.