Day 216 (Recall) Mangos

So there's this lovely little place on South Beach called Mangos. What makes it so lovely? Well, I'll tell you. It all started once upon a Friday night...

Back in college, I met these two beautiful girls, Poonam and Maryjane in my dorm, both of which were Indian; Poonam being bodacious-ly Hindi and Maryjane hailing from the part of the country under Portuguese Catholic ancestry. I forget the details, but between the start of freshman year when I met them at our dorm's top floor and up until Poonam and I graduated (Maryjane's stuck in pharmacy school for another two years) I struck up a very nice friendship with them solidified with gym-time, stadiums, and a few too many drinks at Applebees.

Since then, we've been pretty scattered: me in Miami to work, MJ still in college, and Poonam to Georgia for Graduate school. So this weekend, when Poonam happened to be passing through town and MJ just happened to be home for break, we took the opportunity to meet up: something we'd been saying we'd do since junior year of college.

On Friday, I got lost (again) before finally finding Poonam's friend's house and riding out with them to a bar where we meet up with Maryjane. A few frozen alcoholic daiquiris later, we're talking massive amounts of shit and getting brain freezes trying to "chug" our drinks in an effort to make it to the club next door before the cover charge gets kicked up.

This is where Mangos comes in.

Aside from playing fabulous music and for some reason having ridiculously hot men all over the place, this place has certain...entertainment qualities. Like, for every hour or so, the bartenders get up on stage and dance. Like a fantastically kinky Johnny Rockets, salsa comes on and asses get shaken in pathetic excuses for clothes. The girls do their thing...and then the men come on.

And my night gets infinitely better. Hu-fucking-zzah.