Say you just had your hair done. Ten minutes ago. If you're a man, you had it frosted. Or cut short and brushed forward à la George Clooney. Your hair matters less if you're a woman. Because you're wearing something tight. And black. If it's Saturday night, you hope to catch a glimpse of Donald Trump. Or Jenny McCarthy. Or Yanni. (OK, no one cares about Yanni.) So you wait in line with the rest of the riffraff, while the beautiful people stroll past in the VIP line. Sunrise 251 is in its first full year of operation, so it's bound to be crowded. Here's a hint: Tell the bouncer you're friends with Stephen Heise, the bar's self-described "fun manager" and the owner's older brother. That's who Trump et al. call when they plan to swing by. Then pay the $5 cover -- no problem if you're part of the well-heeled, 25-to-55-year-old jet set that frequents Palm Beach's newest nighttime hot spot. Strut past the dance floor, wind toward the bar past the handsome folks on their cell phones, and buy yourself a bottled beer. Do not -- again, do not -- light up a cigar. That's so '98. Now check your posture. All right, you've arrived.