Tiki Heaven

All too often, the thing that's missing in Vegas bars is character. In the land of a thousand PT's Pubs, swanky hotel ultra-lounges and look-alike sports bars, a watering hole that pulls off a unique (and interesting, or just plain comfortable) identity of its own is a rarity. And this is what makes Frankie's Tiki Room such a treat. Located in the not-so-sexy downtown area of Charleston and MLK, Frankie's is a teeny-tiny place owned by the same people responsible for the Double Down Saloon, a bar that pretty much has nothing but character to boast about.

The outside of the place is innocuous enough, but upon entering Frankie's patrons will find themselves in a tiki wonderland. They also will find themselves temporarily blinded by the darkness if they venture in during daylight hours, as I did. (It's worth mentioning that once you've regained your sight and situated yourself at a table with frosty beverage in hand, it's pretty entertaining to watch others walk in and then fumble in the dark while waiting for their eyes to adjust. Just remember, that was you only a brief time ago.)

But back to the tiki wonderland -- Frankie's is indeed one small room, resplendent with little, wooden chairs and tables that appear to be carved from tree stumps, tiki statues, thatched roof, theme-appropriate surf guitar soundtrack, a vice tester carnival game and all manner of strange old beach party clips running on TVs over the bar. The room is comfortably kitsch-y, theme-y and fun without feeling like a Disneyland property.

The drink menu offers the standard Tiki fare (the Zombie, Mai Tai, Lapu Lapu, Pikake) and an assortment of original rum-based creations. I sampled the Malekula, a tasty mix of coconut rum, Tuaca, melon liqueur and pineapple juice, the Bearded Clam, basically a mojito with a splash of passion fruit, the Ninth Island, a mix of gold and silver rums, 151 proof rum and pineapple juice, and the Zombie, a tart, pleasing mix of rums and juices. The mixers used in each tasted fresh, an important detail for these types of drinks.

Between its happy, lived-in ambiance and its heaping spoonful of character, Frankie's Tiki Room is a place I want to frequent. I want to go back to Frankie's for drinks with my local friends, I want to take my out-of-town friends to Frankie's when they come to Vegas and want the local experience, and I can't wait to introduce Frankie's to my various friends who have moved away temporarily, but are on their way back home.

And isn't that the ultimate endorsement for a locals bar in Vegas?

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Occasionally an old aphorism does wonders to sum things right up: The more things change, the more they stay the same. True unless, of course, they don't stay the same at all. In the past two weeks I've hit up two favorite old haunts, and the experiences stood in complete contrast to each other. First up was The Griffin, and it was just as awesome as ever. Dark and cavernous inside, with a decent selection on its handful of taps and the same cool ambiance as ever, it was just as it was the last time I stopped in for a drink, maybe eight or nine months ago. There are two reasons I really like this downtown bar; one is the energy and overall ambiance. The place opened a few years ago, during the height of the buzz about the Fremont East District, and the hipster charge to make downtown cool. The Griffin's feat was in transcending the trendy side of the hype. It is classically cool, sidestepping that sad fate of being on the cutting edge for a year, then hopelessly dated forever.

The other is the drinks themselves, and the knowledgeable bartenders. The drinks are always good, very reasonably priced and poured with a slightly heavy hand, which I will never, ever complain about. And if you go in the early evening (before the place gets crowded) and sit at the bar, the bartenders will talk to you about their wares and make suggestions. This was the case when I first tried a martini with Hendrick's gin a couple of summers ago. Now I see Hendrick's all over the place, and sometimes request it. So thanks, Griffin. Thank you for the Hendrick's and for continuing to be awesome, even though I've been gone for a few months.

The flip side of that coin was discovered last weekend during a stop at the Green Valley Ranch. When I was just a young Henderson-dwelling girl several years ago, the Green Valley Ranch Resort was home to what were without doubt the most exciting lounges in the city, Drop Bar and Whiskey Sky. At the time they were very cool, and very different for Henderson. Whiskey was not only a lounge, but also had a bit of a club-y vibe, and by way of its then-ownership (Mr. Cindy Crawford, Rande Gerber) was probably the only place in Henderson that ever has or will count George Clooney among its patrons. During my recent visit the place was closed, and based on what I could see by peeking through a crack in the door, under renovations. Surprising? No. The true surprise was still ahead of me, lurking at the Drop Bar.

Granted, though I use to hit up the GVR for booze and entertainment at least once a week, I haven't been back in at least a year, so the "new" Drop Bar is probably not actually all that new. What was once the epitome of mod cool, an all-white, minimalist interior (a round space, the circumference was ringed by white booth-style couches surrounded by small white cocktail tables and ottomans) has gone polar opposite. It's like the GVR hired Saturday Night Live's Jon Bovi to create a concept. Where the lounge was once white and futuristic, it now looks like a vampire lair/super-goth palace in shades of black with touches of purple. The former clean lines have been replaced with ornate wood and brass cabinetry, extensive wrought iron work, including a mind-boggling chandelier dripping with clear, black and purple crystals, a dropped faux ceiling in mirrored black, and dramatic velvet couches ringing the walls. My date may have summed it up best when he said the whole thing reminded him of Disneyland's Haunted House ride. At one time the lounge was tended by cocktail waitresses and bartenders clad in white tube tops, skirts and go-go boots. No more. There were no waitresses present during my visit, but the female bartender wore a simple, stiff black suit. Frankly, I was surprised she wasn't decked out in something reminiscent of Prince, circa Purple Rain. It would have been more fitting.

Signs on each coffin-shaped cocktail table inform customers that Drop Bar now turns into a Hookah Lounge at 7 p.m. nightly. I'm not big on hookah, but I stopped in during the early afternoon hours and I'm curious to see this place at night, in all its goth glory. In any case I'm pretty much forced to go back, because I'm still too shocked by the extreme changes to decide if the new Drop Bar is awesome or awful.