It's a bold proclamation: "Puts Vegas nightlife to shame." But then again, understatement isn't exactly a thing for Coco Bongo.
If you've visited the Riviera Maya, you're probably familiar with the name: The nightclub/show makes its presence known immediately upon arrival at Cancun Airport, with its Spider-Man standees prominently displayed throughout (even along the path to immigration and customs). Guests of any of the region's all-inclusive resorts are likely to find Coco Bongo agents on property selling tickets for its Cancun or Playa del Carmen locations (a third Coco Bongo is located in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic). And then there are the ubiquitous sellers around tourist areas such as Playa del Carmen's Calle 12, clad in DayGlo-green polo shirts and chatting up passers-by to drum up business.
Given its omnipresence, in fact, I began to feel I was missing out after two trips to the region and not one Coco Bongo visit. On my third trip to Playa del Carmen, I decided to remedy the situation. For journalism.
At my host hotel, the Hard Rock Hotel Riviera Maya, I bought my ticket for Saturday night. ("Maybe you'll meet some girls," my sales agent, Roberto, said with a wink.) There are several ticket levels: $65 gets you standing-room admission and unlimited domestic drinks; Gold Member guests get reserved seats and premium drinks for $125; or starting from $875 for four guests, there are VIP tables, which include bottle service. I paid for general admission, although, full disclosure, Roberto upgraded me to Gold for free. For journalism?
The staff takes to the stage to pump up the crowd at the three-story nightclub. Photo Credit: Eric Moya
Coco Bongo offers complimentary shuttle bus service to and from the major resorts — a great benefit, given the distance between the club and most properties (my hotel was about 14 miles away, with one-way cab fare running about $25).
I skipped the bus to Coco Bongo and took a taxi so I could hang out in downtown Playa for a couple of hours, then made my way to the club a couple of minutes before the doors opened. The party had already begun: Staffers were outside pumping up the crowd, leading cheers and engaging in some light choreography akin to what you might find during a wedding reception, or a night at Senor Frog's.
The doors opened about 10:30 p.m. and the crowd filed in — more diverse than I had anticipated, ages 18 to 80 (no, not the proverbial 8 to 80; sorry, young Spidey fans). I settled into my nightstand-size table, which was located on the first of the club's three floors but balanced somewhat precariously on a staggered, theater-style step about 2 feet wide. I shared the wealth with some general-admission patrons and let them put down their plastic cups, in the hope that the liquids therein wouldn't find their way to my white button-up (I was not successful).
On the ground floor there's a small stage with room for maybe 20 dancers, so in general at Coco Bongo there's not much dancing going on, aside from the performers. Speaking of whom, with a few exceptions there's a distinctly 1990s/early 2000s vibe to the entertainment, which mostly consists of Cirque du Soleil-style acrobatics and lip syncing by performers clad in costumes evoking everything from zany movie characters (Austin Powers, the Mask) to music video vixens (the all-star group that covered Labelle's "Lady Marmalade" for the 2001 movie "Moulin Rouge").
Dancers re-enact the “Lady Marmalade” video from the soundtrack of “Moulin Rouge.” Photo Credit: Eric Moya
But for those in a dancing mood, between performances the DJ cranks up the reggaeton, bachata and other Latin-tinged favorites (a lot of Pitbull and Daddy Yankee on the night I attended).
So what about Coco Bongo's central boast? (It's actually a sound bite from a CNN segment, which was played on the club's two movie screens at one point during the night.)
Those hoping for Sin City-style debauchery might be disappointed. However, ladies who find themselves on the catwalk between the two screens would do well to follow Mom's advice about underwear and accidents: An air cannon, signaled appropriately enough by an air horn, periodically sends a gust upward. No Marilyn-style billowing a la "The Seven-Year Itch" here; as several young women throughout the night found out the hard way, it's enough air pressure to turn a miniskirt into a tube top.
Despite that, Coco Bongo is mostly a PG-13 affair: no nudity, no foul language (save the occasional rap lyric) and, at least on the night I was there, no out-of-control drunkenness.
It was also quite fun. Yes, Coco Bongo is cheeky and at times cheesy, but as I made my way toward the exit at about a quarter past 2, leaving behind Madonna's "Vogue" and the accompanying bustier-clad dancers, it was with a smile on my face. Any Vegas nightclub would be proud.
See www.cocobongo.com.mx.