Drummer Steve Copeletti flies around in a helicopter during the day, working as an aerial photographer. Maybe his employment has given him ample opportunity to scout out locations for his monthly alt-music showcase, Poptopia, which has moved more often than a mobster in the Witness Protection Program. You'd need a helicopter to visit all the venues that have hosted Poptopia since its 1999 inception: the Surf Cafe and the Boca Pub in Boca Raton and Shakespeare's Pub in Wilton Manors have all made the short list. Now, Copeletti's Britpop fixation has found a new home at the Billabong Pub, where he and his groups, Whirlaway and the New Graduates (Copeletti drums with both), plus like-minded bands like See Venus, Volumen Cero, and Maypop, will no doubt regale audiences with the closest thing SoFla has to "college rock." Austin or Athens we're not -- by a long shot -- but Copeletti's perseverance has amounted to a decent approximation.

The owners of the Chili Pepper nightclub in Fort Lauderdale were faced with a problem this winter. One of their employees, Russell Davis, had gotten into some trouble and was facing time in the slammer for a parole violation. Back in 1997, Davis had been sentenced to a year in prison, followed by five years of probation, for bank fraud in New York. Unfortunately, last summer, he once again ran afoul of the law when he was charged with stealing $1600 from the petty-cash safe at Club Radius in Boca Raton. By January, Davis was facing revocation of probation, so Eric Levin, president of the Pepper, dashed off a letter to the Honorable Judge William Dimitrouleas and beseeched mercy for Davis. Revenues had increased by 50 percent in one month after hiring Davis as marketing director in September 2001, the letter proffered. Oops. One condition of Davis's probation was "not to engage in any activity where he is soliciting customers." Dimitrouleas sentenced him to five months.

The owners of the Chili Pepper nightclub in Fort Lauderdale were faced with a problem this winter. One of their employees, Russell Davis, had gotten into some trouble and was facing time in the slammer for a parole violation. Back in 1997, Davis had been sentenced to a year in prison, followed by five years of probation, for bank fraud in New York. Unfortunately, last summer, he once again ran afoul of the law when he was charged with stealing $1600 from the petty-cash safe at Club Radius in Boca Raton. By January, Davis was facing revocation of probation, so Eric Levin, president of the Pepper, dashed off a letter to the Honorable Judge William Dimitrouleas and beseeched mercy for Davis. Revenues had increased by 50 percent in one month after hiring Davis as marketing director in September 2001, the letter proffered. Oops. One condition of Davis's probation was "not to engage in any activity where he is soliciting customers." Dimitrouleas sentenced him to five months.

An embarrassment of post-workday riches: 3-for-1 drinks from 5 p.m. to closing, seven days a week. This warrants exploration. You walk into Max's and say, "Whiskey-ginger ale," and minutes later there is a trinity of golden W-GAs before you. The tab, mind you, is for one. Yes, yes, there are of course a few restrictions about the top-shelf stuff, but that's a trifle. Repeat this mantra: Three.... Threeeeee.

An embarrassment of post-workday riches: 3-for-1 drinks from 5 p.m. to closing, seven days a week. This warrants exploration. You walk into Max's and say, "Whiskey-ginger ale," and minutes later there is a trinity of golden W-GAs before you. The tab, mind you, is for one. Yes, yes, there are of course a few restrictions about the top-shelf stuff, but that's a trifle. Repeat this mantra: Three.... Threeeeee.

You'll hear a lot of tunes about Texas at this Pompano Beach bar, where the people are friendly and the drafts are served in frosted mugs. But that's country. Until someone writes a hit tune about Florida cowboys, those are the little indignities that a cracker cowboy has to deal with. Red, White, & Country is located in an industrial part of Pompano, east of Dixie Highway and south of Atlantic Boulevard. Look for the neon American flag. The dance floor is wooden, there are line-dancing lessons on Monday and Wednesday from 7:30 to 9:30 p.m., a bluegrass jam on Tuesdays, and DJs Wednesday through Saturday. Don't be surprised if people shake your hand and introduce themselves when you sidle up to the bar.

You'll hear a lot of tunes about Texas at this Pompano Beach bar, where the people are friendly and the drafts are served in frosted mugs. But that's country. Until someone writes a hit tune about Florida cowboys, those are the little indignities that a cracker cowboy has to deal with. Red, White, & Country is located in an industrial part of Pompano, east of Dixie Highway and south of Atlantic Boulevard. Look for the neon American flag. The dance floor is wooden, there are line-dancing lessons on Monday and Wednesday from 7:30 to 9:30 p.m., a bluegrass jam on Tuesdays, and DJs Wednesday through Saturday. Don't be surprised if people shake your hand and introduce themselves when you sidle up to the bar.

You've got your leather chaps and dew rag, a beard down to your belly button, and a Harley with enough chrome to blind anyone with oversensitive eyes. But where to show off all of this and hang out with a similarly tough-as-nails crowd? South Florida has a large number of biker bars, which is not surprising, given that the weather makes this prime motorcycle country. Of all the places you could park your bike and amble in for a brew or two, Quest is right there at the top. Budweiser in the bottle goes for $2 during the day and $3 at night. Drafts are half that. And the place opens at 7 a.m. A small dive far enough west to attract little unwanted attention, Quest is the top place to meet and greet people who go by names like Nick the Greek or Shaky. So just be nice, and act naturally. They're mostly harmless. Mostly.

You've got your leather chaps and dew rag, a beard down to your belly button, and a Harley with enough chrome to blind anyone with oversensitive eyes. But where to show off all of this and hang out with a similarly tough-as-nails crowd? South Florida has a large number of biker bars, which is not surprising, given that the weather makes this prime motorcycle country. Of all the places you could park your bike and amble in for a brew or two, Quest is right there at the top. Budweiser in the bottle goes for $2 during the day and $3 at night. Drafts are half that. And the place opens at 7 a.m. A small dive far enough west to attract little unwanted attention, Quest is the top place to meet and greet people who go by names like Nick the Greek or Shaky. So just be nice, and act naturally. They're mostly harmless. Mostly.

Über-regulars set this joint apart from your usual hole-in-the-wall. (That and the fact that the place doesn't have a phone.) The faithful patrons of Geni-Lee's perch upon their barstools like moss on gravestones. They aren't even aware that the drink prices -- $1.50 for a bottle of Budweiser or a rail drink -- hearken to a time of leisure suits and disco music. In a building with all the exterior charm of a meat locker, this rectangular cave is self-contained, offering a short-order grill that serves $2.25 burgers. The pool table, which is centered on the barroom floor, and dart board clinging to the wall offer a little distraction, but the real delight is circled 'round the bar. A Vietnam-era veteran with shoulder-length hair and balding pate regales his neighbors with pointers about evading jury duty. ("Tell 'em you got a weak bladder.") Perched beside them, an old woman whose flushed face has turned in on itself from decades of sucking cigarettes puffs yet another.