Most of what comes up in a follow-up visit has nothing to do with exercise. It is ordinary life. Sitting through a recital. Carrying groceries in from the car. Going out on a Friday without paying for it all day Saturday. People working through sciatica or a lumbar disc problem tend to shrink their social calendar quietly, and they rarely bring it up, because the reason sounds too small. The reason is usually standing.
Standing is the part nobody puts in the description of an evening. A crowded room with no open seats means an hour or two of static load through the same joints, on a hard floor, usually while leaning in to be heard. Static standing is harder on an irritated low back than walking is. Walking cycles the load and keeps fluid moving. Standing still parks the load in one place and leaves it there, which is why a patient who can walk a mile without complaint still comes home sore from a two hour party.
So the useful filter for a night out is not the food or the music. It is four questions. Can you sit. Does the seat have a back on it. Can you reserve that seat instead of hoping one opens up. And is leaving early simple, or does it require an announcement. Any place that answers all four is worth writing down, because it turns an evening from a gamble into something you can plan around.
Downtown has a handful of rooms that answer them. One is a craft cocktail bar on the corner of Las Vegas Boulevard and Fremont East, which books its tables through Toast. That is most of the battle for anyone who cannot stand in a line and wait. Its Captain's Quarters hours also start at four in the afternoon on weekdays and two on weekends, so there is a version of the night that happens before the room fills and before the seats are gone, with happy hour four to six on weekdays and an early bird two to five on weekends. None of that was designed with back patients in mind. It solves the seat problem anyway.
The other half of the problem is the neck. Loud rooms produce a very specific pattern of complaint: a forward head, a neck rotated and side bent and held there for an hour so you can hear the person beside you, and a headache on the drive home. A quieter room is not a luxury for anyone managing cervical symptoms. White Whale keeps a hidden room behind a door in the brick that its own site describes as quieter than Fremont, which is exactly the sort of thing worth knowing before you choose where to sit.
Load tolerance is individual, so raise this at your next visit rather than deciding on your own how long you can sit or stand. What holds generally is that an evening built around a reserved seat, an earlier start, and a room where you are not shouting tends to cost less the next morning than one you improvised.