So we were on a "list" to get in here for a work party which means we got to bypass the totally hopeless 5-person line and not pay. Praise jesus, because I wouldn't pay for that crap if a single Brad Pitt were waiting at the top with a marriage proposal.
First, you have to ride to the top in a windowless elevator crammed in with a bunch of drunken, clueless, smelly Vegas visitors. Yuck. Doors open and. the. decor. is wack. I'm talking somebody went freakin' crazy with the black walls and neon scribbling that glows weirdly with some blacklight backlighting. Voodoo? I'm confused.
Drinks are so expensive we didn't even bother. The flairtenders dick around with them so long you're essentially getting a flavored water anyhow.
The view gets half a star and the people watching gets half a star (and a quarter of that people-watching is for the downstairs doorman talking into his sleeve in order to manage that frenzy otherwise known as the 5-person line). I did feel mighty sorry for the poor practically naked dancer that had to perform on the outside deck in the freezing wind. Somebody stick a $20 in her boyshorts.
There are better clubs in Vegas than this.