Any restaurant worthy of your hangover must meet strict standards. (1) No dress code. A pair of jeans, landscaped with spilled beer and cigarette burn holes, will work just fine. Sunglasses are de rigueur. And obviously, you're not getting anywhere near a razor. (2) No crowds. Humans are exceptionally ugly, noisy, and smelly when you're nursing the brown bottle flu. (3) Immediate service. Your table is ready, and somebody's standing by with buckets of Coca-Cola. (4) Inexpensive. You blew your paycheck on lap dances last night, remember? (5) Full bar to allay the morning quivers. (6) Dark — or at least neutral — atmosphere. Sunshine and vodka do not mix on a Saturday morning. (7) Bacon. Only one place aces this test, and it's been acing it for nearly a century: Testa's in Palm Beach. They're open as early as you can drag your sorry carcass down there, serving liquor from 7 a.m. every single day to wash down your ham steak and eggs ($7.95), smoked salmon plate ($9.95), bowls of incredible, stomach-coating cream of crab soup spiked with sherry ($6.95), sirloin steak and eggs ($17.95), and plenty of bacon on the side ($2.95). Sit at the bar with your back to the room, nose buried in a complimentary newspaper, and you'll have the undivided attention of the bartenders. After decades of experience with punchy islanders, they perfectly understand both your inexplicable headache and the precise remedy to cure it.