It’s Saturday, November 4, at 12:17 a.m. when I step into the new lounge at Trader Vic’s, and all I can see are the flaws. The décor is spartan in nature, and the entire space between the heads of the customers and the high ceilings with their shifting lights of neon green, red and blue seems barren. The million-dollar view of the Las Vegas Strip is obstructed by that massive Paris casino marquee with the balloon on top, and there aren’t nearly enough warm bodies in the room to compensate for the frigid chill of the air-conditioning. My friend comments that the cocktail servers probably wish their revealing uniforms included bulky coats.
But this is the soft opening, and it wouldn’t be fair to judge the place before it’s had a chance to iron out all the bugs—a process that is already well underway. But the place has serious potential, and the best way to gauge that is for me to hop into my time machine (just back from the shop, where it had an antifreeze leak repaired) and take a look at the place in the not-too-distant future.
It’s Wednesday, December 31, 2008, at 10:19 p.m. After a surprise nomination and landslide victory, President-Elect Gary Coleman is waiting to take office. The nation is weary, not just from the ongoing war in Iraq but also from the ongoing Hollywood writers’ strike, which has led to a sickening number of Survivor spin-offs. And I park my car (just back from the shop, where it had an antifreeze leak repaired) at Planet Hollywood, before strolling through the Miracle Mile Shops to Trader Vic’s to celebrate—not only New Year’s Eve—but my recent Pulitzer win. Believe me, I was as surprised that a quaint bar column could win the Pulitzer as the rest of you.
At the entrance to Trader Vic’s, I’m greeted by a large Easter Island-style, tiki-face statue, as well as two lovely women who direct me to the elevator around the corner. I pass by the downstairs restaurant and bar, which has an East India Trading Company-meets-modern-nightclub thing going on, with all sorts of island décor mixed into a sleek backdrop. The doorman checks my I.D. and ushers me into the elevator, which takes me to the lounge upstairs. I emerge into one of the hottest places on the Strip. In the far corner, across the packed room, I see the DJ keeping the room energized. There’s no dance floor, but that doesn’t stop patrons from dancing on top of the low tables between the room’s many couches. The old tables and couches were given to the House of Blues and replaced shortly after my first visit in November of 2007.
I make my way to the northwest corner of the room, to a table that was auctioned off at a considerable price for its spectacular view of the New Year’s festivities. Since the Paris balloon marquee was torn down in February, as originally planned, the floor-to-ceiling windows now offer a Strip-wide view of the Paris, Caesars and Bellagio casinos as well as the new CityCenter project (still unfinished due to zoning delays). I can afford the exclusive spot because my Pulitzer win led to a variety of high-paying writing gigs, and after settling my gambling and alcoholism debts, I had just enough left over for this.
I gaze down to watch the drunken pedestrians play chicken with the cab drivers until the cocktail server arrives with my drink—an exotic blend of rums and juices, served in a porcelain vase with a 2-foot-tall straw. I practically have to set it on the floor and stand up in order to drink it.
A dozen mai tais and mojitos later, I’m witnessing a fantastic fireworks display from the comfort of my couch in a warm and cozy room. And to think, I could’ve dismissed the place during its soft opening just over a year ago, before it had a chance to realize its potential. It’s a good thing I reserved my seat back then, when there were still a handful of people scattered around a cold room. Of course, any smart person would’ve done the same thing. This is prime real estate, set to explode.
The Lounge at Trader Vic’s
Planet Hollywood Resort
405-4700