Let's just say that although no matter where one lives one can be partial to his or her neighborhood; it just seems that in LA, this partiality borders on either obsession or paralysis. I have friends who won't leave the Westside except in a cab. Huh?
Not this guy, and to prove it, I trolled the area known as Los Feliz on my latest quest for cheap booze and marked-down food.
Now, this update is going to be a multi-parter, and I just wanted to get the ball rolling with an introductory posting. I have many opinions about Los Feliz, the Eastside of Los Angeles, and other related topics. But I'm too rushed to get into them here. For now, let's just say that many places were visited, many drinks were imbibed, and several service personnel were groped. OK, I made that last part up.
We began our evening at 1739 Public House, located at (go figure) 1739 Vermont in Los Feliz.
For such a clever name, I was expecting a lot more. What we got was full-priced drinks. And a free wheel of cheese pizza.
The Vitals: Now, I'm from the Midwest. Free pizza goes a long way (paying attention, ladies?), and I'm not made of stone, for God's sake! But I guess I thought there might be something more to this place. Other than the free pizza and $3 PBRs on Mondays and Wednesdays (but not Fridays?), it was pretty generic. "Upscale" looking nouveau-pub. Lots of beers on tap, as well as interesting serving mechanisms, but, awkwardly, no servers, a lame-ass jukebox, and ultimately a pretty flat vibe. If someone said, "Hey, Blue, remember how we live in a post-apocalyptic dystopia? And remember how 1739 Public House on Vermont is the last remaining restaurant on Earth?" If that were to happen, and that's a big "IF," I'd pull out my gun and my last 1,739 bullets, shoot the friend 1,738 times, and then use that last one on myself.
Not to be hyperbolic or anything.
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