Saturn Room — Restaurant in Tulsa

I made the terrible mistake of walking into Saturn Lounge expecting an average bar experience. You know, dim lighting, sticky floors, maybe a sad lime wedge trying to survive in a watered-down margarita. But no. What I got instead was an all-out intergalactic tiki extravaganza that clearly did not ask my permission to be this cool.

First off, the drinks. Imagine every tiki-themed fantasy you've ever had—but with better rum, more fire, and drinks served in cups that look like they were plundered straight off a Polynesian pirate ship. I asked for a variety and they delivered a flaming variety. Literal fire. Do they want me to have fun or what?

The patio? Oh, just your standard lush, cozy, string-light-adorned hangout paradise. Perfect for pretending you're somewhere far more exotic than Tulsa. You can practically hear the waves crashing in your imagination—unless it’s a Friday night, in which case it's probably just the bass thumping from somewhere downtown Tulsa.

Now, let’s talk about the staff. They were busy. Like line-out-the-door, cocktail-shaker-in-each-hand busy. Yet somehow still efficient, friendly, and had the audacity to remember my order better than I did. How dare they be competent AND charming?

And the décor? Ugh. Don't even get me started. From the bamboo-lined walls to the retro-futuristic Saturn motifs that scream “Jetsons meets island getaway,” it’s just painfully Instagrammable. I’m talking every corner is a photo op. My camera roll now looks like I took a spontaneous trip to an offbeat tiki planet. So inconveniently delightful.

So yeah, if you're into good drinks, great vibes, stellar service, and a patio that makes you question all your life choices up to this point—by all means, avoid Saturn Lounge. Or don’t. Just don’t blame me when you...

The bar itself is neatly decorated and has a nice patio. The service is severely lacking. We showed up with about 7 people in our group. The bar was mostly empty. We walked up to the bar to order drinks, but the bartender stated that if we take a seat at a table they will come take our drink order. We sat down and about 10 minutes later still no one had come by to even say hello or take our drink orders. We walked back up to the bar and ordered there after waiting for a couple other people who had walked in after us. The bartenders did eventually come to our tables after we had already ordered and asked us if we wanted more drinks. We took them up on the offer and gave cash to pay for the drink... The drinks arrived about 20 minutes later with no change for the order... It was a $12 drink and we handed a $20 (don't assume an $8 tip applies). The interactions with the bartenders were not pleasant, mostly frowning faces of bartenders who don't enjoy making drinks at a fast pace (i.e. a bar scene). We ordered a "bowl for two" option from the menu for $25 and the drink came in a bowl that held maybe 20 OZ and was packed with crushed ice... Basically we probably got close to 14 OZ of liquid in this drink for two at the outrageous price of $25. Overall, the drinks are overpriced and not super tasty depending on your order and the service is slow.... BUT the atmosphere is pretty cool and the patio is great for a warm summer night....

There was a time this place meant something. A time when walking through the doors felt like stumbling into a fever dream of rum, crushed ice, and torchlight—a little corner of the world where it was only midnight.

But now? Now it’s just a costume party without any soul. A dusty postcard version of its former self, where the bartenders wear leis but can’t remember how to make any drinks.

I ordered a daiquiri. Simple. Refreshing. The cornerstone of any self-respecting tiki joint. And somehow, it took three reminders and forty-five minutes to arrive—like they were distilling the rum out back with a Bic lighter.

When their daiquiris finally arrive, they teeter between over diluted and mouth-puckering tart. Never anywhere in between. No longer a cocktail made with care, but a drink made with indifference.

You don’t need a degree from the Sorbonne to shake a daiquiri. You just need someone to care. But no one here seems to. Not anymore.

The regulars have moved on. Maybe the good bartenders did too. Maybe what made this place “this place” has been lost to the slow rot of neglect and a lazy business owner.

Whatever the reason, the lights are still on, the music still plays—but the spirit is gone. And all that’s left is a watered-down memory in a...