Once again, the upwardly mobile citizens of Las Vegas who have moved out of their trailer parks and into tract homes have sold me down the river.
First of all, the music (like so many restaurants in this town) is so loud that you can't have a conversation with the company at your table. Is this to cover up the Mexican families 5 little brats screaming or the weathered strippers puffed up boyfriend seated next to your table's homophobic rant about how 'he crushed that little f**'' ?
Anyways the service is very poor from the tattooed waitress I had. Certainly no training or even effort involved. Bad attitude, although it did make me feel like I was back home in Portland.
She plopped down my undercooked $13 burger with no fries and left, never to be seen again until she plopped down my bill.
No thanks Bachi. I will never be back.