Oh, where to begin? I'd love to say something new about this disaster of an experience, but all the good lines have been used. We booked the venue, only to be met by Blair - the overzealous security guard who clearly missed the memo on how inferiority complexes work. First, he told us we had to be on the list to get in (which we were). Then, after a thrilling hour of standing around, they finally checked on our reservation, only to come back and suggest, quite helpfully, that we leave because they "couldn't find it." On that note, they were absolutely right - we should've gone elsewhere from the start.
During our delightful one-hour wait outside, we watched a parade of people stroll right in without so much as a glance from security. Mostly women, of course. Meanwhile, our group of guys was left to ponder the deeper meaning of life... or at least why having female companions apparently works like a fast pass. Others queued up behind us with equally low female counts and were also denied entry. Pretty sure this kind of discrimination is illegal, even in laid-back Melbourne.
I didn't really want to write this review, but after wasting a solid hour of our lives, I figured, why not join the club? The owners clearly aren't interested in changing a thing, so I'd recommend saving yourself the trouble and picking a spot where your reservation isn't a work of fiction.
Now, wait for management's inevitable "we care" reply. Spoiler: they don't.
