Want my review of Ghostbar at the Palms? Great views of the Strip, but you may have those views all to yourself.
It was Monday night, and my girlfriends and I were seeking the nearest escape route from yet another disappointing gathering held at a suite in Fantasy Tower at The Palms Resort. Sighing, we all consider accepting that the night was a total loss, when I glanced around the casino and noticed a gleaming neon sign: “Ghostbar.”
Not once has the parlor particularly caught my eye before, and my friends would usually automatically roll their eyes at the thought of partying at such an understated lounge. However, perhaps out of desperation, for once we were persuaded. All a group of slightly intoxicated young ladies really crave after a night of disappointment is an open dance floor.
There was not one soul standing in line. Skeptical, we concluded the crowd must have gravitated upstairs. Yet, once the elevator doors opened on the 55th floor, we gave each other a second look of disbelief, hoping we didn’t set ourselves up for further dissatisfaction. Ghostbar was a ghost town.
The energy was dull, made even more evident by a crowd that was all too excited by our appearance. We thought we’d do them a favor by staying and livening up the place, mostly out of convenience. I mean, we were here after all.
Our determination to have a good time was helped by a bit more liquid encouragement. Soon enough, my girls and I were feeling that the lounge had the ideal type of atmosphere for completely letting go without distractions. For once, we felt as if we had no one to impress but ourselves.
Top 40 house music vibrated through the sound system, the standard Vegas nightclub playlist. The total lack of a crowd – in addition to an ounce of flirtation with a disinterested disc jockey – gave us the advantage of completely controlling the mix. He humored us with conversation as we all wondered what was going on with the place.
After we grew weary of forcing our energy upon the club and ran out of song requests, we abandoned the dance floor and grabbed more cocktails. We had a good laugh when we exhaustedly helped ourselves to a seat at one of the empty tables with a “reserved” plaque and were told by a staff member to move elsewhere. There was obviously no reservation necessary for a table in the nearly-empty club. Anyway, it was only a matter of time before a group of decent-looking yet older fellows begged us to take a seat at their table on the outdoor terrace.
If anything, we’ll revisit Ghostbar to see the always-beautiful Las Vegas skyline. The views from the glass-floor patio were spectacular. At least we got a breathtaking selfie or two out of the night.
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