Used to be nice

I visited Club 390 in Chicago Heights, Illinois, on a Thursday night, expecting an entertaining evening at a venue touted as a premier club. The layout is functional but underwhelming. You enter through a small foyer with a metal detector, leading to a main room with a central stage that’s decently lit but lacks flair.

A bar sits to one side, surrounded by scattered tables and chairs, with private booths along the back. The VIP and Champagne Rooms are secluded, but at a quoted $400 for 30 minutes, they didn’t seem worth it. The club is clean, yet it misses the upscale ambiance promised by their promotions.

The dancers were a disappointment, to be honest. There were around 10 girls, give ir take. Latina, Black, and a few White(mostly latina) most of whom I’d rate as a little above average, perhaps a 6 or 7 out of 10. A couple showed some skill, but the majority seemed unenthusiastic, offering minimal pole work or engagement. Their outfits were standard, nothing striking, and the energy felt flat, as if they were just clocking in. I’d read about a diverse, vibrant lineup, but that night, the dancers—spoiler alert—didn’t deliver. The $30 dances were rushed, with songs cut short, making them feel like a letdown.