Gusto Night Club

I'm going to do something different here. Instead of telling you why you should go somewhere, I'm going to tell you why you shouldn't. Consider this a public service announcement.

Gusto Night Club sits right in Parque Lleras, Medellín's tourist ground zero. It's been operating since 2013, which means over a decade of people walking in with money and walking out wondering what happened to it. The playbook is simple: target tourists, charge insane prices, add phantom items to tabs, and rely on the fact that most people won't make a scene when surrounded by security.

Let's talk numbers. One documented case: three beers, two lady drinks, $74 USD total. The bartender added a $30 tip to the credit card. Thirty dollars. For himself. Without asking. When you're signing a receipt in a dark club after a few drinks, you might not notice that the total seems wrong. They're counting on that.

Another reviewer paid $20 for a single drink. Not bottle service. Not champagne. A drink. In a country where a beer normally costs $2-3, someone paid $20 and only realized the scam when it was too late.

The pattern is consistent across years of reviews: tourists get targeted, tabs get inflated, phantom charges appear, and anyone who complains meets security staff that reviewers describe as "armed thugs." One person reported being hit in the face by a bouncer. This isn't a one-off bad experience—this is a business model.

The working girls are part of the ecosystem. They're there to get you buying drinks—theirs and yours—and every lady drink adds to a tab that's already being padded by creative bartenders. It's a coordinated extraction operation wearing the costume of a nightclub.

Now, in fairness: some people have fine experiences. Some reviews mention good security at the door and a fun atmosphere inside. Maybe you'll be lucky. Maybe the bartender working your section is honest. Maybe you'll pay normal prices and have a great night. It's possible.

But when a place has multiple TripAdvisor warnings, when expat forums specifically name it as "a place to avoid," when the negative reviews tell the same story year after year—at some point, the pattern becomes the point.

If you go, use cash only. Watch every transaction. Count your drinks. Never run a tab. And understand that you're walking into a place that has built its reputation on separating gringos from their money.

Parque Lleras has plenty of options. The bars across the plaza charge normal prices. The restaurants don't pad receipts. The clubs down the street don't employ bartenders who tip themselves on your card.

Gusto is right there, looking fancy, looking popular, looking like exactly the kind of place you'd want to check out on your first night in Medellín. That's the trap. Now you know.

Don't say nobody warned you.