Tales of Downtown

Goats, Not Goat Cheese

They belch. They bleat. They munch.

And they are one of my most memorable downtown moments.

But, I need to fill you in. 

Last year in July when it was really hot (I swear that was not the issue), I was walking down Hill, in front of the Central Market, and I looked across the street at Angels Knoll park, right next to Angels Flight and I saw about 100 goats.

Goats. Not a vendor for goat cheese. Not someone serving goat stew to foodies. Just goats. Lots of them - in a crooked formation on a hill with the tall buildings of Bunker Hill as a back drop.

Not one to miss a bleat, I pointed to everyone that I could stop, "Look at the goats. Do you see the goats? I mean there are goats in downtown LA?"

You would have thought it happened everyday. No one even reacted, other than one guy on a skateboard, who said "yeah, lady, now we can have a barbecue." Very funny.  

Well, it turns out, once I got over the shock, and googled them, the goats are faster (and cheaper) than a team of real people weed wackers, and good for the environment, too! I also found out they had been in downtown once before and I just read they were in downtown again. 

Maybe the goats will become a regular presence and the chamber will feature a "downtown goats bus tour" and sell goat memorabilia or something crazy-LA like that. I don't know, I just made that up.

What is the moral of this tale? I don't have a clue about that either or even own a Ouiji board. I just think it's a fun story about downtown and goats. After all we don't live in Kansas. That's all. I'm finished.

Photo credits by DrinkEatTravel.

A $9 Pitcher of Margaritas (An Urban Legend Bites the Dust)

Okay, you already know I am big on happy hours. You don't have to be a genius to figure that out. I mean if you've been following me for any length of time - you've read about my escapades (or at least the ones that I can remember).

So, when I was invited by some friends to go to the new El Cholo (on Flower across from LA Live) for "happy hour" margaritas, I jumped at the chance. Not only do I love margaritas, but I've been going FOREVER to El Cholo for Mexican food - the first one opened a thousand years ago on Western - then I followed them to Santa Monica and beyond.

Well, now to the story that led to the urban legend biting the dust.

Before I go to any happy hour, I call the restaurant to see what their specials are. I have this need-to-know-before-I-go-thing. So, when I called El Cholo, the woman who answered said, "We do not have any happy hour food specials, but we do have specials on our pitchers of margaritas. They are $9." 

Not bad. Probably can get five drinks out of a pitcher. 

I got all dolled up, got to the restaurant early, found my friend George there, and proudly said, "they have $9 pitchers of margaritas during happy hour."  

Let the party begin. 

To all newcomers I boasted, "Guess what - they have $9 pitchers of margaritas." And we drank and toasted, toasted and drank. In essence we had appetizers with our drinks, not the other way around. 

Then the bill came. 

Yes, before you go there - I was a little fuzzy. And yes, I did forget my cash (I left it in my other purse), and yes George did turn a little white. But - it seems as though the pitchers were $29 and not $9. Unbelievable! 

We asked the waitress what the deal was, and she said, "Our pitchers are $29." Period. End of subject. Da...dum. 

The bill was paid by emptying our purses and pockets. 

Yet, I knew what I heard on the phone. The next day, I asked to speak to the manager. Joey got on the phone. I explained the whole story. "Yeah, lady, well, it says all over our restaurant that our pitchers are $29," with the implication that I was clearly wrong and maybe even an idiot.

That did it. I resorted to press blackmail. "Have you heard of Tales of Downtown? Well, it's my POPULAR blog and I will write about this Joey!" 

A pause of silence. Then changing his tone he said, "When do you and your friends want to come in? We'll treat you to a round of drinks. Our pleasure." 

Next week we are going back to El Cholo. Okay, so I muscled Joey. Used the power of the press (you can laugh now), but I was upset. I knew what I heard. It was not - an urban legend - not.

And who ever heard of a $29 pitcher of margaritas anyway?