by Bryan P. on
I'm a huge bowling fan and over the past few years I've managed to try out each bowling alley in the city. I have to say that Lucky Strike, although pretty to look at, has terrible customer service. I went in last week with a group of people on a Tuesday night and immediately the hostess had a chip on her shoulder. After getting to our lanes we ordered some watered down beer and a few small apps. Well it seems for some reason ordering three different things can be VERY confusing. After sending the wrong dish back she brought us another wrong dish again. I ended up telling her to forget it and ate the wrong app anyway. If you're going to charge up the rear then at least hire some employees who know what they are doing!
by Teresita Kaeding on
IMHO, Bring back 1150. Opera is proof that just making the place look nice is not enough and more then anything, the people you bring in define what a place becomes. I haven't been there a tremendous amount since it became Opera, and there is a reason. 1150 had a charm to it, a vibe, variety, class, and it was more then just an interesting place to go. You never went in jeans, VIP meant something other then who could pay $50 for a wrist band, and there was respect, both for the place, the music, and for other guests. Last night was my final straw on this place. After paying a decent amount of money for tickets because all my friends were going, I waited in the Will Call line for almost an hour (I mean, really, I've already paid and I have to wait!?!). Finally getting inside, my friends ran off to the nearest bathroom, and my girlfriend was in heels, so we were a step behind, just enough for a bouncer to jump in and tell me I had to pay a VIP charge when my friends just walked by (to go to the nearest bathroom..really?). So, okay, finally Kazell gets up there and I'm thinking, the decor is nice, light show is cool, and the sound system, thought it's by no means Mansion, will do. So, shrug off the bad vibe and try to chill, and try to get a drink, but several bartenders ignore me in favor of talking to a pretty girl. Fed up, I make eye contact with the cute female bartender, flirt a bit, and in no time, I have my drinks. I know I should have done that in the first place, but it was extra effort for someplace, as much as they are charging for drinks, I shouldn't have to put forth. To the guy bartenders there, you are there to serve, not play kissy-face with whoever. Finally getting a drink, i join my friends on the dance floor. It should be called a shove floor; I've never been pushed so much in my life. One guy had the audacity to push me hard enough to knock over my girlfriend, into my friends girlfriend, into him. Not even an apology, and this happened to lesser degrees all night. It's busy, yes, but are these the type of low class people the former 1150 has to let in to pay for their renovation?
by Blake B. on
My friends had to practically beat me over the head for years before my special, fidgety ass agreed to go anywhere near this place. Commonly known as 'where strippers go to die,' it is just as aptly referrable as 'a XXX white-trash carnival.' Featuring some of the surliest street ladies in the business, all of them willing to take you in a corner and flash the wedge, or publicly grope old men through their pants for $5, you'd better come here with a sense of humor or not at all. I know a lot of guys whose girlfriends won't let them near strip clubs, and it takes a bit of convincing before they realize that this place is, if anything, meant only for backass giggles. The last time I was here, I was watching Blondie (the large black woman with a blonde wig who crushes beer can between her flaccid, mottled breasts) gyrate on the small stage behind the bar. A man openly called me out for having my mouth wide open. I don't know anyone who has actually stayed in the hotel here, but my lord, I don't know if you could pay me enough. One of the few night clubs in Atlanta where you might want to consider showing up in a hazmat suit.