Your business instincts are legendary.
And not in a Lil Jon sort of way.
But it’s your instinct for finding the right party at the right time that has made you who you are today.
And we do mean that in a Lil Jon sort of way.
So welcome to Board Room, a late-night den of capitalist excess, now open in River North’s former RiNo space.
Your night begins as your personal hostess escorts you to your table through flashing lasers and a thin fog of dry ice. Then, she’ll introduce you to your staff for the evening. Let’s see: there’s the charming busboy, the gracious bottle service girl (don’t worry, they’ve been cross-trained) and oh, yes, your bodyguard, sort of a human velvet rope, standing sentry. He’ll await your nod of approval before allowing anyone to enter your sanctum.
As the evening of jeroboams, salmanazars, nebuchadnezzars of champagne progresses (note: for the future, just start with the nebuchadnezzar), you might find yourself standing on the back of your leather booth. That’s okay; it’s encouraged. Just keep an eye on the bar. At some point, curtains will pull back to reveal sexy dancers splashing around in glass shower chambers. It’s like your last board of directors meeting all over again.
Mercifully, it’s not your CEO in the bikini this time.
And not in a Lil Jon sort of way.
But it’s your instinct for finding the right party at the right time that has made you who you are today.
And we do mean that in a Lil Jon sort of way.
So welcome to Board Room, a late-night den of capitalist excess, now open in River North’s former RiNo space.
Your night begins as your personal hostess escorts you to your table through flashing lasers and a thin fog of dry ice. Then, she’ll introduce you to your staff for the evening. Let’s see: there’s the charming busboy, the gracious bottle service girl (don’t worry, they’ve been cross-trained) and oh, yes, your bodyguard, sort of a human velvet rope, standing sentry. He’ll await your nod of approval before allowing anyone to enter your sanctum.
As the evening of jeroboams, salmanazars, nebuchadnezzars of champagne progresses (note: for the future, just start with the nebuchadnezzar), you might find yourself standing on the back of your leather booth. That’s okay; it’s encouraged. Just keep an eye on the bar. At some point, curtains will pull back to reveal sexy dancers splashing around in glass shower chambers. It’s like your last board of directors meeting all over again.
Mercifully, it’s not your CEO in the bikini this time.
