First visit (post rebrand): WEC 42.
It was moved from one part of the Hard Rock to another and resized from a club venue to a monstrosity that affords you only a fraction of the awesome lines-of-sight that the previous The Joint afforded before its relocation/renaming to The Joint Rogue. Anyone who walks into this venue after having been in the other one really gets a shock when they see the new size of this thing and a bigger shock if they get a terrible line-of-sight to the stage/cage.
I have attended too many shows and Mixed Martial Arts events here to list, both before when it was club-sized and probably a four-to-five star venue to now where it has no idea what it is (is it a mid-size venue with arena-level shittiness?) or have enough competent staff to be able to fulfill their duties.
One specially asinine experience with their incompetent staff:
my girlfriend was dizzy from the BTU-heat being generated by the crowd on the floor during an Interpol/White Rabbit/Imagine Dragons concert. So we walk out of the pit and get to the back wall off to the side (bothering no one, except one overly inconsiderate staff member) and she sits on the ground so she does not keel over while I run over to the bar to get preposterously priced bottles of water. "Get up!" she is yelled instead of affording her a minute to bring down her body temp or asking if she is feeling alright. I get there right after she is threatened with being kicked out in her condition. Awesome. Hard Rock staff in a nutshell.
Another asinine experience since I have so many:
different show, same award-winning staff. We queue for an Arcade Fire/Local Natives Coachella runoff show. Once we are inside on barrier centre there is this fat, clearly Mallcop-Paul-Blart-inspired staff member (with a shirt one size too small for his portly mid section). He is so intent on being a Employee of the Month that he is watching everyone creepily like a hawk to make sure he can throw someone out. Of course he throws someone out, and since his friend protests -- although he was doing nothing besides protesting, which he has a right to do since the fucking show had not even started yet, this goon security gets in his most gut-sucked, chest-out posterior and squares up from across the barrier with this guy from LA and keeps repeatedly asking in an agitated manner if he wants to join his friend. Great conflict resolution. Something tells me that this clown would not be so brave if he was not inside The Joint with all the other black shirts backing him like a gang of unfit J.R.O.T.C. rejects.
The afterparty room upstairs is overly tiny and sucks as much as The Joint's staff but at least Blart is not there. - E