It was like a taste of 7th and Montana in downtown L.A. yesterday as, between meetings, I took another walk up Figueroa Street with my colleague from China. "You'd better duck your head or cross the street," she warned as we passed Riordan's Tavern, the site where -- purely for "revenge" yesterday -- I told the bar tender to save space for a large group of Europeans who never arrived. "Nonsense," I said, "No need to duck my head ... I'll hold it up proudly!" "It's up to you," she said, "I'm just afraid someone will run out of there shaking a fist at you." As it turned out, the fist-shaking came a block later. An Urban Loon at the corner of Olympic and Figueroa started screaming at us and shaking both fists. He would have been more intimidating if he didn't sound like Minnie Mouse. "The Holy Spirit is having dinner with you tonight!," he screamed. "I'm fine with that, as long as He pays the bill," I mumbled to my colleague. "He'll be feasting on your entrails!," the Loon continued. We picked-up our pace. I guess that's life in the City of Angels: Every now and then you come across a Holy Spirit and all that ent(r)ails ...!
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