Best Of South Florida® 2000 Winners
People & Places
We shudder when entering most public bathrooms (think any Greyhound bus station toilet). But we found one we want to move into. Check out the ladies' lounge at the Weston Hills Country Club next time you're out west. (Yes, they'll let you use the lounge even if you're not a member.) You'll understand why it's part of the tour all prospective members get. The aroma of flowers greets you the second you enter the room, which is a far cry from the usual bathroom scent. But wait, this doesn't even look like a bathroom -- it looks more like someone's living room. A brocaded Victorian couch trimmed in gold fringe beckons. Deep brass bowls filled with potpourri and flower arrangements rest on cherry-wood tables. The wood-shuttered French windows open to a halcyon view of palm trees and gently waving grasses. Four rose-cushioned chairs face ornately etched mirrors; frosted glass lamps providing the perfect lighting for makeup touch-ups. Your feet sink into the floral wall-to-wall carpeting. The toilets and sinks are in an adjoining room. The soap bins are always full of peach-scented soap, and there are even dispensers of mouthwash and lotion next to little plastic cups on a lace doily. The only problem we saw: a garbage can filled with used paper towels. Oh well. Even the Garden of Eden had a flaw.
Owned by relatives of famed Philly mobster Raymond "Long John" Martorano, this pricey ristorante serves up some fine pasta. Just ask our finest suspected local mobsters. Wiseguys like "Sideburns" Cerrella, Vinnie "The Fish" Romano, and Jimmy Tortoriello have all frequented the place, according to intelligence reports from organized-crime detectives. We wondered why the Sinatra tunes were played at high volume; could it be to drown out the questionable conversations taking place among men wearing silk shirts? We might have chosen the Bobby Rubino's rib restaurants for this category, if only because they have a higher Mafia pedigree than Martorano's. Rubino's is owned by the progeny of former godfather Paul Castellano (who was whacked by Gotti) and Broward's most colorful capo, Ettore Zappi. But Martorano's has more class than Rubino's, and if you're lucky, you might catch some of the cast members of the HBO show The Sopranos while you're there. They popped in for a meal in February, proving once again that art does imitate life.
Owned by relatives of famed Philly mobster Raymond "Long John" Martorano, this pricey ristorante serves up some fine pasta. Just ask our finest suspected local mobsters. Wiseguys like "Sideburns" Cerrella, Vinnie "The Fish" Romano, and Jimmy Tortoriello have all frequented the place, according to intelligence reports from organized-crime detectives. We wondered why the Sinatra tunes were played at high volume; could it be to drown out the questionable conversations taking place among men wearing silk shirts? We might have chosen the Bobby Rubino's rib restaurants for this category, if only because they have a higher Mafia pedigree than Martorano's. Rubino's is owned by the progeny of former godfather Paul Castellano (who was whacked by Gotti) and Broward's most colorful capo, Ettore Zappi. But Martorano's has more class than Rubino's, and if you're lucky, you might catch some of the cast members of the HBO show The Sopranos while you're there. They popped in for a meal in February, proving once again that art does imitate life.
Best Place To See Someone Feed Alligators (Though it's not a good idea to feed alligators)
Buffalo Tiger's Florida Everglades Airboat Tours
Buffalo Tiger's is a little shack by the side of the Tamiami Trail on the Miccosukee Indian Reservation. They give a fine airboat ride, complete with fancy maneuvering and a stop at an abandoned Miccosukee village on an island. The real thrill, however, comes when you're waiting for the ride. Stand by the dock, make some guttural grunting noises (or have someone more experienced make them for you), and it won't be long until "Tony" swims up to the dock and floats there, half submerged, waiting to be fed. He likes bread. Big chunks. We couldn't quite tell how big Tony is, though we'd say ten feet is a solid guess. If you kneel on the dock, you'll be only a foot above those jaws, probably the closest you can come to a feeding gator without losing a limb. Or an appendage, if you're a chief.
Best Place To See Someone Feed Alligators (Though it's not a good idea to feed alligators)
Buffalo Tiger's Florida Everglades Airboat Tours
Buffalo Tiger's is a little shack by the side of the Tamiami Trail on the Miccosukee Indian Reservation. They give a fine airboat ride, complete with fancy maneuvering and a stop at an abandoned Miccosukee village on an island. The real thrill, however, comes when you're waiting for the ride. Stand by the dock, make some guttural grunting noises (or have someone more experienced make them for you), and it won't be long until "Tony" swims up to the dock and floats there, half submerged, waiting to be fed. He likes bread. Big chunks. We couldn't quite tell how big Tony is, though we'd say ten feet is a solid guess. If you kneel on the dock, you'll be only a foot above those jaws, probably the closest you can come to a feeding gator without losing a limb. Or an appendage, if you're a chief.
Once we discovered this concert venue, we vowed never to go to one of those megastadiums where you need binoculars to see the act -- on the screen! With just 4000 seats, this theater provides an intimate setting in which all ticket holders can actually see the performer. We think there isn't a bad seat in the house. Why pay to see performers if you can't see them, we wonder? The place has history, too -- it's where Frank Sinatra made his first Broward appearance in 1977. True, you won't be able to see Elton John, Ricky Martin, or the Rolling Stones here, but you can catch a large selection of performers, including the Pretenders, Smashing Pumpkins, George Carlin, and Elvis Costello.
Once we discovered this concert venue, we vowed never to go to one of those megastadiums where you need binoculars to see the act -- on the screen! With just 4000 seats, this theater provides an intimate setting in which all ticket holders can actually see the performer. We think there isn't a bad seat in the house. Why pay to see performers if you can't see them, we wonder? The place has history, too -- it's where Frank Sinatra made his first Broward appearance in 1977. True, you won't be able to see Elton John, Ricky Martin, or the Rolling Stones here, but you can catch a large selection of performers, including the Pretenders, Smashing Pumpkins, George Carlin, and Elvis Costello.
Paul Reid is The Palm Beach Post's big hitter -- and deservedly so. He does what he wants and does it well. We still recall a Reid piece on cockfighting from a couple years back that was as beautifully raw as a peck to the eye. His prose is elegant, concise, witty -- in short, everything lacking from most daily newspaper stories. Reid spends a lot of time doing restaurant reviews nowadays, which is fine. Dining at tony restaurants on your employer's dime is no doubt a plum assignment. But lucky for us Reid still finds time to bear witness to other strange avenues of life in South Florida and beyond, from a millenium discourse with legendary sports broadcaster Curt Gowdy to a historical meditation on tobacco and the United States. Take this lead-in to a Reid piece on digital manipulation of photographs: "Once upon a simpler time, Henry VIII fell in love when he beheld a portrait in oil of his betrothed, Anne of Cleves. Alas, when Anne showed up for the wedding, Henry -- who had never met her -- took one look and underwent an immediate and total change of heart. Anne was ugly. Henry was royally ticked off. Anne was sent packing and her embellished portrait consigned to the royal attic. She was pretty as a picture, but pictures can lie." Now that's one story on this seemingly staid subject that we read to the end.
Paul Reid is The Palm Beach Post's big hitter -- and deservedly so. He does what he wants and does it well. We still recall a Reid piece on cockfighting from a couple years back that was as beautifully raw as a peck to the eye. His prose is elegant, concise, witty -- in short, everything lacking from most daily newspaper stories. Reid spends a lot of time doing restaurant reviews nowadays, which is fine. Dining at tony restaurants on your employer's dime is no doubt a plum assignment. But lucky for us Reid still finds time to bear witness to other strange avenues of life in South Florida and beyond, from a millenium discourse with legendary sports broadcaster Curt Gowdy to a historical meditation on tobacco and the United States. Take this lead-in to a Reid piece on digital manipulation of photographs: "Once upon a simpler time, Henry VIII fell in love when he beheld a portrait in oil of his betrothed, Anne of Cleves. Alas, when Anne showed up for the wedding, Henry -- who had never met her -- took one look and underwent an immediate and total change of heart. Anne was ugly. Henry was royally ticked off. Anne was sent packing and her embellished portrait consigned to the royal attic. She was pretty as a picture, but pictures can lie." Now that's one story on this seemingly staid subject that we read to the end.
Best Scandal
Tonya Whyte's run-in with the morality police
Whyte got the shaft (pun intended) when sheriff's deputies busted her and others doing their thing at Athena's Forum, a swingers' club, in January 1999. Whyte claimed all along that she was engaged in nothing more lewd than a little suggestive dancing with her fiancé. Two undercover cops lounging clothing-free in a nearby hot tub, however, claim they saw some fondling going on. Oh my! So they later called in their jackbooted backups, who proceeded to round up all patrons suspected of doing the nasty in a private club. Gracious! The entire lascivious pack was sent off to the hoosegow, and Broward became a little less of a Gomorrah, at least for a few hours, after which the fornicators presumably made bail and jumped right back into a writhing pile of flesh. Shocking! Not to be outdone by the prudes at the Sheriff's Office, the school board made it a top priority to fire Whyte -- or at least to humiliate her -- for the crime of having a life outside the classroom. She did them one better and quit earlier this year. You go, girl.
Best Scandal
Tonya Whyte's run-in with the morality police
Whyte got the shaft (pun intended) when sheriff's deputies busted her and others doing their thing at Athena's Forum, a swingers' club, in January 1999. Whyte claimed all along that she was engaged in nothing more lewd than a little suggestive dancing with her fiancé. Two undercover cops lounging clothing-free in a nearby hot tub, however, claim they saw some fondling going on. Oh my! So they later called in their jackbooted backups, who proceeded to round up all patrons suspected of doing the nasty in a private club. Gracious! The entire lascivious pack was sent off to the hoosegow, and Broward became a little less of a Gomorrah, at least for a few hours, after which the fornicators presumably made bail and jumped right back into a writhing pile of flesh. Shocking! Not to be outdone by the prudes at the Sheriff's Office, the school board made it a top priority to fire Whyte -- or at least to humiliate her -- for the crime of having a life outside the classroom. She did them one better and quit earlier this year. You go, girl.
If a good newscast is aired in a sensation-drenched market and nobody watches, did it really happen? While you're pondering that one, tune in to WAMI at 10 p.m. on a weeknight for The Times. Though often uneven, The Times never suffers from a lack of ambition. Better yet, the show displays that rarest of TV-news qualities: a sense of humor. Although anchor Ben Mankiewicz gives viewers the stern anchor eye when a story calls for it and can talk policy with the best of them, his bemused smile and self-deprecating attitude are truly refreshing. The great thing about Mankiewicz is that you're never quite sure if he's being serious or if he's sending up the whole TV-news genre in a sort of meta-newscast that's half Peter Jennings, half Dennis Miller. Definitely the kind of guy we'd like to have a few beers with.
If a good newscast is aired in a sensation-drenched market and nobody watches, did it really happen? While you're pondering that one, tune in to WAMI at 10 p.m. on a weeknight for The Times. Though often uneven, The Times never suffers from a lack of ambition. Better yet, the show displays that rarest of TV-news qualities: a sense of humor. Although anchor Ben Mankiewicz gives viewers the stern anchor eye when a story calls for it and can talk policy with the best of them, his bemused smile and self-deprecating attitude are truly refreshing. The great thing about Mankiewicz is that you're never quite sure if he's being serious or if he's sending up the whole TV-news genre in a sort of meta-newscast that's half Peter Jennings, half Dennis Miller. Definitely the kind of guy we'd like to have a few beers with.
No, the term "Best Public Art" isn't necessarily an oxymoron, even though a lot of what passes for public art in South Florida may be public but is hardly art, or at least good art. We used to wonder what on earth possessed the county to spend money on Accordant Zones, the pair of 1995 coral-rock sculptures by Ned Smyth and Barbara Neijna that sit on the banks of the New River in what's more or less the back yard of the county jail. Viewed from the SE Third Avenue bridge as you head south over the river, these chunks of stone might be mistaken for, say, the Tomb of the Unknown Rice Cake and Ice Cream Cone, because that's more or less what they resemble. But take a stroll along the river and catch these towering forms up close, and be thankful we can provide incarcerated residents with our own urban variation on Stonehenge.
No, the term "Best Public Art" isn't necessarily an oxymoron, even though a lot of what passes for public art in South Florida may be public but is hardly art, or at least good art. We used to wonder what on earth possessed the county to spend money on Accordant Zones, the pair of 1995 coral-rock sculptures by Ned Smyth and Barbara Neijna that sit on the banks of the New River in what's more or less the back yard of the county jail. Viewed from the SE Third Avenue bridge as you head south over the river, these chunks of stone might be mistaken for, say, the Tomb of the Unknown Rice Cake and Ice Cream Cone, because that's more or less what they resemble. But take a stroll along the river and catch these towering forms up close, and be thankful we can provide incarcerated residents with our own urban variation on Stonehenge.
The governor wins this easily for getting caught on camera saying, "Kick their asses out." It's not so much the words, which aren't exactly governorly, but it's that he said it at a sit-in at Bush's executive office suite while two black legislators protested his "One Florida" plan. Jeb made his remark while the camera was rolling. Our friend, Jon the stoner, has some advice for the governor: "You know those big, uh, movie camera-looking things on those dudes' shoulders that have, like, television station logos on them? They are like filming you, man. It's got to do with like, images, man. And, uh, people can actually see it on TV later. So, dude, chill, when those things are, um, like,… oh shit, I forgot what I was talking about, man." Jon is right, Jeb. In fact we'd have thought Papa George would have warned you about that already. But the quote was just part of a bigger gaffe -- his killing of affirmative action for minority college students. Well, actually, it's not much of a gaffe when it's cold and calculated, is it? While affirmative action may not be a perfect system (perhaps it should also be based on economic factors rather than simply race), Jeb's move stunk up the place. It's no time to go backward on race relations, Jeb.
The governor wins this easily for getting caught on camera saying, "Kick their asses out." It's not so much the words, which aren't exactly governorly, but it's that he said it at a sit-in at Bush's executive office suite while two black legislators protested his "One Florida" plan. Jeb made his remark while the camera was rolling. Our friend, Jon the stoner, has some advice for the governor: "You know those big, uh, movie camera-looking things on those dudes' shoulders that have, like, television station logos on them? They are like filming you, man. It's got to do with like, images, man. And, uh, people can actually see it on TV later. So, dude, chill, when those things are, um, like,… oh shit, I forgot what I was talking about, man." Jon is right, Jeb. In fact we'd have thought Papa George would have warned you about that already. But the quote was just part of a bigger gaffe -- his killing of affirmative action for minority college students. Well, actually, it's not much of a gaffe when it's cold and calculated, is it? While affirmative action may not be a perfect system (perhaps it should also be based on economic factors rather than simply race), Jeb's move stunk up the place. It's no time to go backward on race relations, Jeb.
Police departments in general are notoriously secretive and manipulative with their information. Some of the secretiveness is for good reason -- if a crucial fact in an ongoing investigation gets out to the press, it could hurt the case. The manipulation comes into play when a key fact could make the cops look bad. Like the fact that an unarmed, handcuffed suspect was given a black eye on the way to jail. Things like that. The worst police PIOs (Public Information Officers) will thwart journalists' efforts to get at records that reveal such things, delaying the release of key documents or going as far as outright lying about their existence. Such practice is against the law and often ends up biting the department in the ass, but it's done all the time anyway. And still other PIOs are always trying to manipulate the way a reporter writes a story. When it doesn't come out the way they want it, they take it personally and begin obstructing certain members of the fourth estate. Unlike those scoundrels Mike Reed plays it straight. He gets records and promptly faxes them to the reporter. He doesn't play favorites. He doesn't gum up the process, and he doesn't try to write the story for you. He's a classic, professional, just-the-facts-ma'am kind of cop. The way it should be.
Police departments in general are notoriously secretive and manipulative with their information. Some of the secretiveness is for good reason -- if a crucial fact in an ongoing investigation gets out to the press, it could hurt the case. The manipulation comes into play when a key fact could make the cops look bad. Like the fact that an unarmed, handcuffed suspect was given a black eye on the way to jail. Things like that. The worst police PIOs (Public Information Officers) will thwart journalists' efforts to get at records that reveal such things, delaying the release of key documents or going as far as outright lying about their existence. Such practice is against the law and often ends up biting the department in the ass, but it's done all the time anyway. And still other PIOs are always trying to manipulate the way a reporter writes a story. When it doesn't come out the way they want it, they take it personally and begin obstructing certain members of the fourth estate. Unlike those scoundrels Mike Reed plays it straight. He gets records and promptly faxes them to the reporter. He doesn't play favorites. He doesn't gum up the process, and he doesn't try to write the story for you. He's a classic, professional, just-the-facts-ma'am kind of cop. The way it should be.
Best Political Battle
Broward County's strong mayor proposal
It had all the ingredients of an epic: A diminutive wannabe dictator (Ken Jenne) angling behind the scenes for a colossal power-grab; a protectionist gang of ethically questionable politicos who will stop at nothing to retain their preeminence (county commissioners); and a horde of profiteers angling on both sides of the issue (lobbyists and contractors). In politics, battles are almost always between evil and slightly less evil, and in this case it's hard to tell what side was which. Creating a strong mayor in Broward would, it seems, put too much absolute power in one set of hands. The thought of Ken Jenne with all that power is abominable for just about everybody but his long-time cronies. Yet there are few things as politically frightening as the county commission as it now stands, with the likes of campaign thief Scott Cowan and perennial good ol' girl Lori Parrish sitting up there. Perhaps it would take a dictator to clean Broward County's pipes and bring it to national prominence. Or maybe infamy. Jenne lost out this time, but this one's far from over. It's only round one in this political death match.
Best Political Battle
Broward County's strong mayor proposal
It had all the ingredients of an epic: A diminutive wannabe dictator (Ken Jenne) angling behind the scenes for a colossal power-grab; a protectionist gang of ethically questionable politicos who will stop at nothing to retain their preeminence (county commissioners); and a horde of profiteers angling on both sides of the issue (lobbyists and contractors). In politics, battles are almost always between evil and slightly less evil, and in this case it's hard to tell what side was which. Creating a strong mayor in Broward would, it seems, put too much absolute power in one set of hands. The thought of Ken Jenne with all that power is abominable for just about everybody but his long-time cronies. Yet there are few things as politically frightening as the county commission as it now stands, with the likes of campaign thief Scott Cowan and perennial good ol' girl Lori Parrish sitting up there. Perhaps it would take a dictator to clean Broward County's pipes and bring it to national prominence. Or maybe infamy. Jenne lost out this time, but this one's far from over. It's only round one in this political death match.
Best Daily Newspaper Writer/ Broward County
José Lambiet
Admit it. You read Lambiet's "South Florida Insider" in the Sun-Sentinel. Everybody does. (That's why The Herald tried to lure him away, unsuccessfully.) While the rest of the Sun-Sentinel aims for -- and usually achieves -- a sleepy weave of the banal and irrelevant, Lambiet's writing is solid, punchy, and fun. It may carry more cachet to keep up with political columnist Buddy Nevins, but we're guessing Nevins doesn't pull down half the readership of the Bald One. The great unwashed simply don't care about politics anymore, Buddy. We want to know what the beautiful people are up to in SoBe. Not that Lambiet isn't a journalist's journalist. He has a source book to die for (though he loses points with us for overuse of anonymous attribution), and his network of informants would make a G-man jealous. Hell, he even breaks news once in a while.
Best Daily Newspaper Writer/ Broward County
José Lambiet
Admit it. You read Lambiet's "South Florida Insider" in the Sun-Sentinel. Everybody does. (That's why The Herald tried to lure him away, unsuccessfully.) While the rest of the Sun-Sentinel aims for -- and usually achieves -- a sleepy weave of the banal and irrelevant, Lambiet's writing is solid, punchy, and fun. It may carry more cachet to keep up with political columnist Buddy Nevins, but we're guessing Nevins doesn't pull down half the readership of the Bald One. The great unwashed simply don't care about politics anymore, Buddy. We want to know what the beautiful people are up to in SoBe. Not that Lambiet isn't a journalist's journalist. He has a source book to die for (though he loses points with us for overuse of anonymous attribution), and his network of informants would make a G-man jealous. Hell, he even breaks news once in a while.
One has to ponder the reliability of a newspaper when it gets the name of its own employee wrong. Makes you wonder exactly how badly the daily hacks butcher the name of your average Joe Blow whose house burns down or who gets busted for snorting coke off the toilet seat at his local dive bar. So, for posterity's sake: "A story on page 1B of Sunday's edition about the Sun-Sentinel Children's Fund misidentified the Sun-Sentinel Marketing Manager for Charities. She is Andrea Bradley. We regret the error." We hope they get the name right on her paycheck.
One has to ponder the reliability of a newspaper when it gets the name of its own employee wrong. Makes you wonder exactly how badly the daily hacks butcher the name of your average Joe Blow whose house burns down or who gets busted for snorting coke off the toilet seat at his local dive bar. So, for posterity's sake: "A story on page 1B of Sunday's edition about the Sun-Sentinel Children's Fund misidentified the Sun-Sentinel Marketing Manager for Charities. She is Andrea Bradley. We regret the error." We hope they get the name right on her paycheck.
The best -- and worst -- politicians are the renegades, the ones who challenge the good old boy system and aren't afraid to be impolite. The best of these generate a better and more just government, while the worst simply hem and haw at everything while getting absolutely nothing accomplished. School board member Stephanie Kraft falls among the former group. And the school board desperately needs a few good women. Kraft is constantly trying to improve the ever-political school board and has won a few major victories. But it was one vote that will forever make her something of a hero to those who really give a damn about freedom. After Ken Jenne's posse busted up a swingers' club and arrested two teachers (who were in the clubs with their consenting significant others), there was a typical fascist knee-jerk response: Fire the teachers. Pious school board members were afraid to vote any other way when the scandal broke -- except Kraft, bless her libertarian soul. She voted against suspending the teachers without pay, a lone voice fighting the process of canning the teachers. She complained that the board was crossing a sacred line of privacy. It took guts -- and later it helped achieve results. Following Kraft's lead, the board has reversed itself on the matter.
The best -- and worst -- politicians are the renegades, the ones who challenge the good old boy system and aren't afraid to be impolite. The best of these generate a better and more just government, while the worst simply hem and haw at everything while getting absolutely nothing accomplished. School board member Stephanie Kraft falls among the former group. And the school board desperately needs a few good women. Kraft is constantly trying to improve the ever-political school board and has won a few major victories. But it was one vote that will forever make her something of a hero to those who really give a damn about freedom. After Ken Jenne's posse busted up a swingers' club and arrested two teachers (who were in the clubs with their consenting significant others), there was a typical fascist knee-jerk response: Fire the teachers. Pious school board members were afraid to vote any other way when the scandal broke -- except Kraft, bless her libertarian soul. She voted against suspending the teachers without pay, a lone voice fighting the process of canning the teachers. She complained that the board was crossing a sacred line of privacy. It took guts -- and later it helped achieve results. Following Kraft's lead, the board has reversed itself on the matter.
Since tasting outrage at his first glimpse of that circus otherwise known as the Hollywood City Commission some three decades ago, Brewer has led a plucky group of activists who keep an eye on the often questionable dealings at Hollywood City Hall. Some politicians brush aside Brewer, a Tennessee native with a deep Southern drawl and a sweep of white hair. But those who do live to regret it. Long-time commissioner Cathy Anderson reportedly called for a city manager's dismissal under orders from Brewer and has been known to ask reporters, "Is Pete mad at me?" Brewer may have only a high-school education, but the retired donut company executive has a knowledge of finances and city government to rival any city official -- and often sniffs out scandals before city officials do, thanks to his faithful coterie of city hall sources. Brewer is a taxpayer's best friend and is amicable with journalists. A message left on a reporter's answering machine led to a front-page story in a daily newspaper about how the city accidentally sold its 100-foot police radio tower to a Miami man. He also uncovered a disability double-dip that cost the city millions, a pension scandal in which 35-year-old employees were retiring, and is now trying to interest Gov. Jeb Bush in investigating what he calls a $10 million water-and-sewer shortfall. Brewer might have lost his first city commission election last month, but that's OK with us. He can accomplish far more on the outside.
Since tasting outrage at his first glimpse of that circus otherwise known as the Hollywood City Commission some three decades ago, Brewer has led a plucky group of activists who keep an eye on the often questionable dealings at Hollywood City Hall. Some politicians brush aside Brewer, a Tennessee native with a deep Southern drawl and a sweep of white hair. But those who do live to regret it. Long-time commissioner Cathy Anderson reportedly called for a city manager's dismissal under orders from Brewer and has been known to ask reporters, "Is Pete mad at me?" Brewer may have only a high-school education, but the retired donut company executive has a knowledge of finances and city government to rival any city official -- and often sniffs out scandals before city officials do, thanks to his faithful coterie of city hall sources. Brewer is a taxpayer's best friend and is amicable with journalists. A message left on a reporter's answering machine led to a front-page story in a daily newspaper about how the city accidentally sold its 100-foot police radio tower to a Miami man. He also uncovered a disability double-dip that cost the city millions, a pension scandal in which 35-year-old employees were retiring, and is now trying to interest Gov. Jeb Bush in investigating what he calls a $10 million water-and-sewer shortfall. Brewer might have lost his first city commission election last month, but that's OK with us. He can accomplish far more on the outside.
Some are undoubtedly on a power trip, but most people who choose law enforcement as a career do so out of some sense of community service. That puts them on the ladder of humanity a rung above the apathetic masses. But it doesn't mean they're perfect, and when they use or abuse their positions of authority, they're even worse than criminals, because they've breached the public trust. Most criminals, after all, never claimed to be good guys. But David Farrall did. An agent working the organized-crime beat for the FBI office in Miami, the Coconut Creek resident spent his time on duty trying to clean up South Florida's dirty underbelly. On November 23 of last year, he did some soiling of his own, driving drunk late at night and speeding the wrong way down I-95, in the process killing two innocent Lauderhill brothers, Maurice Williams and Craig Chambers. As if that weren't bad enough, he identified himself as an FBI agent at the accident scene, and in doing so got investigators initially to believe his story -- that it was the brothers who had been at fault. Very, very bad.
Some are undoubtedly on a power trip, but most people who choose law enforcement as a career do so out of some sense of community service. That puts them on the ladder of humanity a rung above the apathetic masses. But it doesn't mean they're perfect, and when they use or abuse their positions of authority, they're even worse than criminals, because they've breached the public trust. Most criminals, after all, never claimed to be good guys. But David Farrall did. An agent working the organized-crime beat for the FBI office in Miami, the Coconut Creek resident spent his time on duty trying to clean up South Florida's dirty underbelly. On November 23 of last year, he did some soiling of his own, driving drunk late at night and speeding the wrong way down I-95, in the process killing two innocent Lauderhill brothers, Maurice Williams and Craig Chambers. As if that weren't bad enough, he identified himself as an FBI agent at the accident scene, and in doing so got investigators initially to believe his story -- that it was the brothers who had been at fault. Very, very bad.
We're not talking about some long-limbed nubile tourist girl who's down for the season and looking to get deflowered. We're referring to the real deal, the blue-robed diva of Catholicism, the Mother of all mothers. For roughly 40 years, the DiVito motel and its Virgin Mary statue have hosted tourists, ever since original owner Antonio DiVito decided to erect a monument paying tribute to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The motel's version is decidedly smaller and doesn't curve perilously to one side, but it does sport cubbyholes where Mary and fellow saint Anthony sit and contemplate the Atlantic's horizon. White stone cherubs, nymphs, and water-bearing wenches also crown the tower, but it's Mary who receives the occasional clutch of flowers from lodgers and passersby.
We're not talking about some long-limbed nubile tourist girl who's down for the season and looking to get deflowered. We're referring to the real deal, the blue-robed diva of Catholicism, the Mother of all mothers. For roughly 40 years, the DiVito motel and its Virgin Mary statue have hosted tourists, ever since original owner Antonio DiVito decided to erect a monument paying tribute to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The motel's version is decidedly smaller and doesn't curve perilously to one side, but it does sport cubbyholes where Mary and fellow saint Anthony sit and contemplate the Atlantic's horizon. White stone cherubs, nymphs, and water-bearing wenches also crown the tower, but it's Mary who receives the occasional clutch of flowers from lodgers and passersby.
SW 136th Avenue, south of I-595
You were expecting us to say A1A, Las Olas Boulevard, or Clematis Street. But we're contrarians to the core, so we're going to impart a warm sense of confusion by naming this out-of-the-way residential through street as the finest little drive in our neck of the woods. Before you get all apoplectic, hop in the jalopy and check it out. This smooth, two-lane street is fronted by modest houses that don't all look alike, sporting big yards and wide lawns. Between the houses are empty lots (!), home to nothing more than lush stands of Australian pine. The whole place has a genteel, countrified feel to it. If memory serves, there's even a white fence or two demarcating horse pastures and empty fields. As if to remind you that this is South Florida, though, an ugly gated community sits at the end of the road, and a big piece of pastureland slated for rezoning threatens to make way for still more McMansions.
Best Mile Of Broward/Palm Beach
SW 136th Avenue, south of I-595
You were expecting us to say A1A, Las Olas Boulevard, or Clematis Street. But we're contrarians to the core, so we're going to impart a warm sense of confusion by naming this out-of-the-way residential through street as the finest little drive in our neck of the woods. Before you get all apoplectic, hop in the jalopy and check it out. This smooth, two-lane street is fronted by modest houses that don't all look alike, sporting big yards and wide lawns. Between the houses are empty lots (!), home to nothing more than lush stands of Australian pine. The whole place has a genteel, countrified feel to it. If memory serves, there's even a white fence or two demarcating horse pastures and empty fields. As if to remind you that this is South Florida, though, an ugly gated community sits at the end of the road, and a big piece of pastureland slated for rezoning threatens to make way for still more McMansions.
There's a reason you can get really cheap flights to Fort Lauderdale in, say, mid-August: The weather sizzles. It's not that the weather here is significantly worse during the summer months than it is in any other East Coast city south of the Mason-Dixon Line, but it seems to go on forever. In South Florida summer runs from April to November, no matter what the calendar or weathermen want you to believe. To survive it you must have a place to seek refuge from the heat, and we know of no better hangout than the Broward County Library. Think of the attributes: It's free, it's air-conditioned, the bathrooms are clean, the bookshelves are stocked, and best of all, you paid for it with your own tax dollars, so there's no guilt factor. Nobody has the right to hurry you on your way. Dig out that latest Carl Hiaasen page-turner and search out a table in the far stacks, then sit down and chill. Kick off your shoes, wring out your socks, sleep -- whatever. This is your temple.
There's a reason you can get really cheap flights to Fort Lauderdale in, say, mid-August: The weather sizzles. It's not that the weather here is significantly worse during the summer months than it is in any other East Coast city south of the Mason-Dixon Line, but it seems to go on forever. In South Florida summer runs from April to November, no matter what the calendar or weathermen want you to believe. To survive it you must have a place to seek refuge from the heat, and we know of no better hangout than the Broward County Library. Think of the attributes: It's free, it's air-conditioned, the bathrooms are clean, the bookshelves are stocked, and best of all, you paid for it with your own tax dollars, so there's no guilt factor. Nobody has the right to hurry you on your way. Dig out that latest Carl Hiaasen page-turner and search out a table in the far stacks, then sit down and chill. Kick off your shoes, wring out your socks, sleep -- whatever. This is your temple.
It doesn't look like much, just a big square of vacant land with a few benches thrown around, but for your pet this park is like doggy Disneyland. Cooped up all day while their owners are making a living to keep them in Kibbles, the canines are turned loose at Poinciana Park. There is no snobbery, cliquishness or breedism among dogs here. Dobermans, beagles, and golden retrievers run together, fight playfully, and roll on their backs on the soft grass. The socialization is good for the dogs, say owners and trainers, and the pooches clearly appear to be enjoying the freedom to romp. But it's also a social experience for the owners, who stand around like parents watching their toddlers play, trading tips on dog collars ("Where'd you get that mood dog collar?" asked one owner), food, and discipline problems. One caveat: You have to watch where you're walking. Apparently few follow the park's scooping rule.
It doesn't look like much, just a big square of vacant land with a few benches thrown around, but for your pet this park is like doggy Disneyland. Cooped up all day while their owners are making a living to keep them in Kibbles, the canines are turned loose at Poinciana Park. There is no snobbery, cliquishness or breedism among dogs here. Dobermans, beagles, and golden retrievers run together, fight playfully, and roll on their backs on the soft grass. The socialization is good for the dogs, say owners and trainers, and the pooches clearly appear to be enjoying the freedom to romp. But it's also a social experience for the owners, who stand around like parents watching their toddlers play, trading tips on dog collars ("Where'd you get that mood dog collar?" asked one owner), food, and discipline problems. One caveat: You have to watch where you're walking. Apparently few follow the park's scooping rule.
Royal Palm Yacht & Country Club
Why wait till next season for the heavily attended Boca Raton Historical Society's annual house tour that'll cost you big bucks (that's because it's a fundraising event) when every Sunday at the non-security-gated Royal Palm Yacht & Country Club in Boca Raton, you can casually walk through at least four open houses. Call it a self-guided tour through lavish homes for sale. It's usually held from 1 to 4 p.m., is never crowded, and is always free. That's because real-estate agent David Roberts is hoping that you're in the market to buy, but certainly he must realize that he's providing a golden opportunity for Mr. and Ms. Just Curious, who want to see how the other half (make that 1 percent) lives. Well, maybe not so famous, but definitely rich. Many of these places are going for two or three million dollars or more. And of course the homeowners have all used interior designers, so this is a golden opportunity to pick up some decorating ideas -- furniture placement, floral arrangements, use of mirrors. Or just ogle. Imagine, a fireplace in the master bathroom! And 18 karat gold faucets. Go ahead; try them. Yup, cold and hot water come out -- just like in your bathroom. Don't worry, nobody's going to ask to see your assets. Still, it's a good idea to dress as if you have some.
Best Rich and Famous House Tour
Royal Palm Yacht & Country Club
Why wait till next season for the heavily attended Boca Raton Historical Society's annual house tour that'll cost you big bucks (that's because it's a fundraising event) when every Sunday at the non-security-gated Royal Palm Yacht & Country Club in Boca Raton, you can casually walk through at least four open houses. Call it a self-guided tour through lavish homes for sale. It's usually held from 1 to 4 p.m., is never crowded, and is always free. That's because real-estate agent David Roberts is hoping that you're in the market to buy, but certainly he must realize that he's providing a golden opportunity for Mr. and Ms. Just Curious, who want to see how the other half (make that 1 percent) lives. Well, maybe not so famous, but definitely rich. Many of these places are going for two or three million dollars or more. And of course the homeowners have all used interior designers, so this is a golden opportunity to pick up some decorating ideas -- furniture placement, floral arrangements, use of mirrors. Or just ogle. Imagine, a fireplace in the master bathroom! And 18 karat gold faucets. Go ahead; try them. Yup, cold and hot water come out -- just like in your bathroom. Don't worry, nobody's going to ask to see your assets. Still, it's a good idea to dress as if you have some.
It's here that the people of Broward County, and indeed all the world, can come to find out God's stance on all the hot political issues of the day. The good Rev. D. James Kennedy calls his white, towering church, "God's house," and that's where the Creator lets his political views be known. Gay rights? Not on your eternal life. Disney World, with its "Gay Days," has become a "Gomorrah with rides," according to God as told to Kennedy. God's having none of this abortion stuff, either. Just look at one of the church's Websites (www.reclaimamerica.org), where God has a hand in telling antiabortionists how to "control the debate" and "sell" their image, which needs to be changed from one of "intolerant, inflexible, unintelligent religious fanatics." Coral Ridge tells all those unintelligent religious fanatics, "We must become a NEW pro-life movement…, reasonable people with a credible position." While God has a big problem with abortion, Coral Ridge reminds us that there are few things the Big Guy likes better than a good execution of a sinner. Violence is OK, too, as long as it's against the young. ("He who spares the rod hates his son," Coral Ridge reminds us on that Website.) And finally, never, ever watch the act of human coitus. God knows pornography is a damnable thing -- even if He did invent it.
It's here that the people of Broward County, and indeed all the world, can come to find out God's stance on all the hot political issues of the day. The good Rev. D. James Kennedy calls his white, towering church, "God's house," and that's where the Creator lets his political views be known. Gay rights? Not on your eternal life. Disney World, with its "Gay Days," has become a "Gomorrah with rides," according to God as told to Kennedy. God's having none of this abortion stuff, either. Just look at one of the church's Websites (www.reclaimamerica.org), where God has a hand in telling antiabortionists how to "control the debate" and "sell" their image, which needs to be changed from one of "intolerant, inflexible, unintelligent religious fanatics." Coral Ridge tells all those unintelligent religious fanatics, "We must become a NEW pro-life movement…, reasonable people with a credible position." While God has a big problem with abortion, Coral Ridge reminds us that there are few things the Big Guy likes better than a good execution of a sinner. Violence is OK, too, as long as it's against the young. ("He who spares the rod hates his son," Coral Ridge reminds us on that Website.) And finally, never, ever watch the act of human coitus. God knows pornography is a damnable thing -- even if He did invent it.
You, too, can get taken -- in this case for a three-hour ride on a river no wider than a couple of back yards, past some houses owned by rich people (and known as Millionaires Row) and a couple of thatched-roof buildings known as "Indian Village." It's all very nice and safe, and the big double-decker boat waddles along the New River from the Intracoastal Waterway west past the Broward Center For the Performing Arts like a fat town crier, shrieking all the way. But a cruise on the river beats just sitting on the sidelines and watching it flow by. Maximum load: 527 passengers, a population greater than many towns in the state of Wyoming. The kids love the whistle, you can buy food and drink on board, and the price ($11.50 for adults and $7.75 for children) is worth it if your out-of-town tourists get seasick and hate boats but want to say they "cruised" in Florida. At Christmas the owners put reindeer atop the boat and blare carols at the shore as the boat passes.
You, too, can get taken -- in this case for a three-hour ride on a river no wider than a couple of back yards, past some houses owned by rich people (and known as Millionaires Row) and a couple of thatched-roof buildings known as "Indian Village." It's all very nice and safe, and the big double-decker boat waddles along the New River from the Intracoastal Waterway west past the Broward Center For the Performing Arts like a fat town crier, shrieking all the way. But a cruise on the river beats just sitting on the sidelines and watching it flow by. Maximum load: 527 passengers, a population greater than many towns in the state of Wyoming. The kids love the whistle, you can buy food and drink on board, and the price ($11.50 for adults and $7.75 for children) is worth it if your out-of-town tourists get seasick and hate boats but want to say they "cruised" in Florida. At Christmas the owners put reindeer atop the boat and blare carols at the shore as the boat passes.
The vacant lot at the northwest corner of Tamarind Avenue and 25th Street
Before the sign went up, most people drove past this vacant lot and didn't give it a second thought. Shame on them. Actually, shame on all of us. Shame on the South Florida history we never learned and still don't teach. This is no empty lot. This is a mass grave -- unmarked -- where almost 1000 African-Americans, all victims of the hurricane of 1928, most from Belle Glade, are buried. This was the closest dumping ground, literally. These poor people were brought to this site (white folk were buried at a real cemetery -- Woodlawn), dumped, and, well, forgotten for almost 70 years. Until recently, when a group of concerned citizens decided to form a coalition to create a proper memorial park with a hurricane education center. Of course you can visit the site even before it's a park. And think about it.
Best Place for a History Lesson
The vacant lot at the northwest corner of Tamarind Avenue and 25th Street
Before the sign went up, most people drove past this vacant lot and didn't give it a second thought. Shame on them. Actually, shame on all of us. Shame on the South Florida history we never learned and still don't teach. This is no empty lot. This is a mass grave -- unmarked -- where almost 1000 African-Americans, all victims of the hurricane of 1928, most from Belle Glade, are buried. This was the closest dumping ground, literally. These poor people were brought to this site (white folk were buried at a real cemetery -- Woodlawn), dumped, and, well, forgotten for almost 70 years. Until recently, when a group of concerned citizens decided to form a coalition to create a proper memorial park with a hurricane education center. Of course you can visit the site even before it's a park. And think about it.
Are you convinced that illegal drugs are a Chinese plot to destabilize American society? That public schools are nothing but indoctrination camps for liberal ideology about gays, premarital sex, and revisionist American history? Do you think the United Nations is Satan's presence on Earth? Then you need to pay a visit to Fred Gielow's Web page, You Don't Say. Based in Boca Raton, Gielow is a conservative's conservative -- and he's assembled an impressive array of screeds that all come to the same conclusion: The world is going to hell in a hand basket, and if we don't get back to good ol' family values damn quick there ain't gonna be much left to squabble over. Agree with Gielow or not -- frankly we think he's a bit loony -- you have to admire the man's conviction. The perfect antidote to mealy-mouthed Internet pages that are all flash and little substance.
Are you convinced that illegal drugs are a Chinese plot to destabilize American society? That public schools are nothing but indoctrination camps for liberal ideology about gays, premarital sex, and revisionist American history? Do you think the United Nations is Satan's presence on Earth? Then you need to pay a visit to Fred Gielow's Web page, You Don't Say. Based in Boca Raton, Gielow is a conservative's conservative -- and he's assembled an impressive array of screeds that all come to the same conclusion: The world is going to hell in a hand basket, and if we don't get back to good ol' family values damn quick there ain't gonna be much left to squabble over. Agree with Gielow or not -- frankly we think he's a bit loony -- you have to admire the man's conviction. The perfect antidote to mealy-mouthed Internet pages that are all flash and little substance.
Nothing like being direct, we always say. This Broward County business has a moniker that, emblazoned on the side of its van, certainly inspires curiosity from other motorists. Walter Philbrick, a former Hialeah police officer who worked in homicide, decided to cash in on an untapped market when he retired. It seems the last thing relatives want to do after a family member has been shot or killed, he found, is grab a bottle of Fantastik and clean blood and scrape bits of brain off the wall. So two years ago he started Crime Scene Clean-Up, also known as PSI (Professional Sanitation International). Philbrick has contracts with nearly all South Florida police departments and charges roughly $400 a job. Two of his famous cases: cleaning the Cunanan houseboat ("the mattress was so full of blood it had to be thrown away") and the house of an Aventura doctor who was shot by a patient. The worst case: a man who jumped in front of a train in Miami, spewing body parts for 50 yards. Philbrick hopes to franchise his operation around the country. We're just glad he didn't choose an even more direct name like Body Parts Clean-Up or Dried-Blood Removal.
Nothing like being direct, we always say. This Broward County business has a moniker that, emblazoned on the side of its van, certainly inspires curiosity from other motorists. Walter Philbrick, a former Hialeah police officer who worked in homicide, decided to cash in on an untapped market when he retired. It seems the last thing relatives want to do after a family member has been shot or killed, he found, is grab a bottle of Fantastik and clean blood and scrape bits of brain off the wall. So two years ago he started Crime Scene Clean-Up, also known as PSI (Professional Sanitation International). Philbrick has contracts with nearly all South Florida police departments and charges roughly $400 a job. Two of his famous cases: cleaning the Cunanan houseboat ("the mattress was so full of blood it had to be thrown away") and the house of an Aventura doctor who was shot by a patient. The worst case: a man who jumped in front of a train in Miami, spewing body parts for 50 yards. Philbrick hopes to franchise his operation around the country. We're just glad he didn't choose an even more direct name like Body Parts Clean-Up or Dried-Blood Removal.
Your first glimpse of the Breakers' history of indulgence comes as you approach the imposing Italian Renaissance structure from the driveway. Walk past the limos and into the lobby, where Venetian chandeliers and gold leaf ceilings accentuate the feeling of opulence. The tapestries and fresh flowers further confirm it. This is old money. The original hotel was built more than a century ago with some of the robber baron dollars Henry Flagler made with John D. Rockefeller. While the building has aged gracefully, it was recently revitalized by an expensive refurbishment that has continued to earn it a place among the best hotels in the world. It has all the stars and diamonds bestowed by travel guides, and 1500 employees, who speak 25 languages, make sure it stays world-class. The spa, the boutiques (you can get Steuben glass at one), and the golf course add to the upper-class experience that can be had on a weekend getaway. But for that real old-money feel, we like dining in the Florentine Room, with its Continental cuisine, impressive wine list, and older gentlemen who wear jackets to dinner simply because one must.
Your first glimpse of the Breakers' history of indulgence comes as you approach the imposing Italian Renaissance structure from the driveway. Walk past the limos and into the lobby, where Venetian chandeliers and gold leaf ceilings accentuate the feeling of opulence. The tapestries and fresh flowers further confirm it. This is old money. The original hotel was built more than a century ago with some of the robber baron dollars Henry Flagler made with John D. Rockefeller. While the building has aged gracefully, it was recently revitalized by an expensive refurbishment that has continued to earn it a place among the best hotels in the world. It has all the stars and diamonds bestowed by travel guides, and 1500 employees, who speak 25 languages, make sure it stays world-class. The spa, the boutiques (you can get Steuben glass at one), and the golf course add to the upper-class experience that can be had on a weekend getaway. But for that real old-money feel, we like dining in the Florentine Room, with its Continental cuisine, impressive wine list, and older gentlemen who wear jackets to dinner simply because one must.
Yeah, there's a hint at a Greek motif because of the sporadic temple columns jutting from floor to ceiling, but club revelers care less about décor and more about where the boys are. And some of the hottest are grinding ass on the bar with barely a shoestring dividing one glorious cheek from the other. Saturday's the main night, with go-go boys readily accepting tips slipped beneath their barely there attire, and if you catch them at a willing moment, you might be able to cop a feel of their oft-oiled bods. This gay dance palace is the closest you'll get to South Beach while still behind Broward County lines, and its one-of-a-kind eye candy merits a small offering to the god Apollo, at the very least.
Yeah, there's a hint at a Greek motif because of the sporadic temple columns jutting from floor to ceiling, but club revelers care less about décor and more about where the boys are. And some of the hottest are grinding ass on the bar with barely a shoestring dividing one glorious cheek from the other. Saturday's the main night, with go-go boys readily accepting tips slipped beneath their barely there attire, and if you catch them at a willing moment, you might be able to cop a feel of their oft-oiled bods. This gay dance palace is the closest you'll get to South Beach while still behind Broward County lines, and its one-of-a-kind eye candy merits a small offering to the god Apollo, at the very least.
Let's start by categorically dismissing all male news dudes. When it comes to hair, there's really no variety at all to be found on their heads. (We will reserve comment on what's in their heads.) The only approved style, apparently, is close-cropped. Just once we'd like to see a guy sporting a luxuriant 'fro detail the tragic results of a deadly tornado, but we digress. Women are allowed much more follicular latitude. Still, we like our news babes tressed in long, blond hair. That's why we like Jennifer Gould. Not only does she feature some of the shiniest locks on the tube, arranged in that always appealing Lisa Kudrow style, she seems to revel in her blondness. We could almost see Gould occasionally excusing her on-air slip-ups with a gee-whiz, "Well, I am a blonde, you know." Yes Jenny, you are a blonde. And we love you all the more for it.
Let's start by categorically dismissing all male news dudes. When it comes to hair, there's really no variety at all to be found on their heads. (We will reserve comment on what's in their heads.) The only approved style, apparently, is close-cropped. Just once we'd like to see a guy sporting a luxuriant 'fro detail the tragic results of a deadly tornado, but we digress. Women are allowed much more follicular latitude. Still, we like our news babes tressed in long, blond hair. That's why we like Jennifer Gould. Not only does she feature some of the shiniest locks on the tube, arranged in that always appealing Lisa Kudrow style, she seems to revel in her blondness. We could almost see Gould occasionally excusing her on-air slip-ups with a gee-whiz, "Well, I am a blonde, you know." Yes Jenny, you are a blonde. And we love you all the more for it.
Best Place To Watch A NASCAR Race
Freddie's Anchor Sports Grill
Don't let the anchors, saltwater aquarium, or back-lot dolphin mural fool you. It's not the nautical motif that packs the house on weekends. It's Freddie's reverent devotion to all things NASCAR that keeps local motorheads coming back for more. Three big-screen televisions and 23 regular-size ones dutifully show high-speed action and frenzied cheers of NASCAR, Busch, and Winston Cup races. Brass-and-wood plaques cover a side-wall honoring assorted Daytona winners and seven-time Winston Cup champ Dale Earnhardt, and a two-car Sega Daytona USA video game sits in the corner ready for anyone wanting to give virtual racing a try. Freddie's even gives patrons an up-close look at the real deal: The shell of Bill Elliott's 1993 number 11 Budweiser NASCAR Thunderbird hangs upside down from the ceiling. NASCAR runs 40 weeks a year, and for 50 bucks the bar offers a NASCAR club membership that includes a T-shirt, cap, bumper stickers, and ten free feeding passes for pig roasts cooked up every Sunday. Beer, pork, racecars… what more could a gal ask for?
Best Place To Watch A NASCAR Race
Freddie's Anchor Sports Grill
Don't let the anchors, saltwater aquarium, or back-lot dolphin mural fool you. It's not the nautical motif that packs the house on weekends. It's Freddie's reverent devotion to all things NASCAR that keeps local motorheads coming back for more. Three big-screen televisions and 23 regular-size ones dutifully show high-speed action and frenzied cheers of NASCAR, Busch, and Winston Cup races. Brass-and-wood plaques cover a side-wall honoring assorted Daytona winners and seven-time Winston Cup champ Dale Earnhardt, and a two-car Sega Daytona USA video game sits in the corner ready for anyone wanting to give virtual racing a try. Freddie's even gives patrons an up-close look at the real deal: The shell of Bill Elliott's 1993 number 11 Budweiser NASCAR Thunderbird hangs upside down from the ceiling. NASCAR runs 40 weeks a year, and for 50 bucks the bar offers a NASCAR club membership that includes a T-shirt, cap, bumper stickers, and ten free feeding passes for pig roasts cooked up every Sunday. Beer, pork, racecars… what more could a gal ask for?
One syllable. Two letters. Six feet, ten inches of lean, sculpted muscle. ZO! Lots of great athletes have earned their single-name recognition: Michael, Shaq, Sweetness, Magic, the Babe. And although achievement generally precedes such recognition, this year Miami Heat center Alonzo Mourning took a huge leap forward in both realms. Zo spent his first few seasons here carrying the weight of a franchise and a city on his back while critics called him overpaid and underproductive. But it was the pressure he put on himself, rather than the pressure of the outside world, that led him to his first selection to the All-NBA First Team last year and to runner-up position in league MVP voting. The accolades kept coming this season: Zo was chosen to compete in Sydney with the 2000 USA Men's National Team. In addition to his achievements on the court, Mourning, who is the NBA's national spokesman for the prevention of child abuse, donates $100 for every blocked shot he makes to the Children's Home Society and Jackson Memorial Hospital. And his Summer Groove fundraiser, which benefits the Children's Home Society, has raised more than a million dollars in the three years it's existed. On the floor or off, Alonzo Mourning always stands tall.
One syllable. Two letters. Six feet, ten inches of lean, sculpted muscle. ZO! Lots of great athletes have earned their single-name recognition: Michael, Shaq, Sweetness, Magic, the Babe. And although achievement generally precedes such recognition, this year Miami Heat center Alonzo Mourning took a huge leap forward in both realms. Zo spent his first few seasons here carrying the weight of a franchise and a city on his back while critics called him overpaid and underproductive. But it was the pressure he put on himself, rather than the pressure of the outside world, that led him to his first selection to the All-NBA First Team last year and to runner-up position in league MVP voting. The accolades kept coming this season: Zo was chosen to compete in Sydney with the 2000 USA Men's National Team. In addition to his achievements on the court, Mourning, who is the NBA's national spokesman for the prevention of child abuse, donates $100 for every blocked shot he makes to the Children's Home Society and Jackson Memorial Hospital. And his Summer Groove fundraiser, which benefits the Children's Home Society, has raised more than a million dollars in the three years it's existed. On the floor or off, Alonzo Mourning always stands tall.
Even watching at home on an 18-inch television screen, peering through cigarette smoke and sipping beer, this much is clear: Every time Pavel Bure touches the puck, the game is demonstrably altered. Number 10 seems to explode across the ice, gathering the puck at the blue line and snapping it past another unsuspecting goalie before you can say, "Holy perestroika, Pavel!" Take one game, say early March, against the Northeast Division-leading Toronto Maple Leafs: The Cats are in a horrid, season-threatening slump, losers of four straight at home and seemingly sleep-skating for the last month. The team's once insurmountable lead in the Southeast Division has dwindled to just two games over the insurgent Washington Capitals. Enter Pavel. Near the end of the first period, number 10 cuts across the ice and blisters a puck past goalie Curtis Joseph. Goal number 44 (long ago shattering a Panther record). Bure then slides across the ice on one knee in gunslinger fashion, pumping his fist, and all you can think is… Slump? What slump? Just like that, clear as Russian vodka, the Cats are back. The Panthers go on to manhandle the Leafs, with Bure adding an empty-net goal as an exclamation point to the 3-1 victory. And they then go on to bury the Capitals in the bottom of their litter box.
Even watching at home on an 18-inch television screen, peering through cigarette smoke and sipping beer, this much is clear: Every time Pavel Bure touches the puck, the game is demonstrably altered. Number 10 seems to explode across the ice, gathering the puck at the blue line and snapping it past another unsuspecting goalie before you can say, "Holy perestroika, Pavel!" Take one game, say early March, against the Northeast Division-leading Toronto Maple Leafs: The Cats are in a horrid, season-threatening slump, losers of four straight at home and seemingly sleep-skating for the last month. The team's once insurmountable lead in the Southeast Division has dwindled to just two games over the insurgent Washington Capitals. Enter Pavel. Near the end of the first period, number 10 cuts across the ice and blisters a puck past goalie Curtis Joseph. Goal number 44 (long ago shattering a Panther record). Bure then slides across the ice on one knee in gunslinger fashion, pumping his fist, and all you can think is… Slump? What slump? Just like that, clear as Russian vodka, the Cats are back. The Panthers go on to manhandle the Leafs, with Bure adding an empty-net goal as an exclamation point to the 3-1 victory. And they then go on to bury the Capitals in the bottom of their litter box.
So many reasons from which to choose… the weather, the cornucopia of exposed flesh, the fact that a Dunkin' Donuts is never more than a block or two away. Yes, these are nice things you can't find in Cleveland, but what really sets us apart down here is the quality of the light. Natives say you can tell the season by the color of the sun's rays: glare white in summer, pastel yellow in spring, soft brass in the fall, and eggshell in the winter. Sometimes, when the atmospheric conditions are just so, the entire world turns a shade of rosy pink that even makes the strip malls look appealing.
So many reasons from which to choose… the weather, the cornucopia of exposed flesh, the fact that a Dunkin' Donuts is never more than a block or two away. Yes, these are nice things you can't find in Cleveland, but what really sets us apart down here is the quality of the light. Natives say you can tell the season by the color of the sun's rays: glare white in summer, pastel yellow in spring, soft brass in the fall, and eggshell in the winter. Sometimes, when the atmospheric conditions are just so, the entire world turns a shade of rosy pink that even makes the strip malls look appealing.
Forearms with tendons that resemble banyan roots, only they move. A cool and collected toughness that spells B-I-G T-I-M-E. Just 7 percent body fat on a musculature that is at once drop-jaw beautiful and downright frightening. Be afraid. Yes, be very afraid, because it's Preston Wilson, a young man simply dripping with uncanny talent and blockbuster potential. Last year as a rookie, he gave us just a hint of his incredible power and a fielding prowess that's gonna soon fill ESPN highlight reels. Move over Junior Griffey, there's a new daddy's boy in the league. Preston, who is former Met Mookie Wilson's stepson, definitely has a career. Now, the question is: Will it be with the Marlins?
Forearms with tendons that resemble banyan roots, only they move. A cool and collected toughness that spells B-I-G T-I-M-E. Just 7 percent body fat on a musculature that is at once drop-jaw beautiful and downright frightening. Be afraid. Yes, be very afraid, because it's Preston Wilson, a young man simply dripping with uncanny talent and blockbuster potential. Last year as a rookie, he gave us just a hint of his incredible power and a fielding prowess that's gonna soon fill ESPN highlight reels. Move over Junior Griffey, there's a new daddy's boy in the league. Preston, who is former Met Mookie Wilson's stepson, definitely has a career. Now, the question is: Will it be with the Marlins?
They call him "Chop Chop," and not necessarily with admiration. In the blueblood circles of horseracing, Jorge Chavez has long been looked upon with a wary eye for his demonstrative (some would say brutal) use of the whip. But at four feet, ten inches -- tiny even by jockey standards -- Chavez leverages every ounce of his body into making his horses run. It may be ugly, but it's effective. At the ripe age of 39, the former Peruvian street urchin has found horseracing glory. Last year he rode two winners in the Breeders' Cup and was the top finisher during the Gulfstream season. Chavez capped off the year by winning the Eclipse Award for top rider in the country, besting such better-known Gulfstream stablemates as Pat Day and Jerry Bailey and permanently catapulting himself out of the ghetto of 30-to-1 long shots and claiming races. So for now, at least, make that Mr. Chop Chop.
They call him "Chop Chop," and not necessarily with admiration. In the blueblood circles of horseracing, Jorge Chavez has long been looked upon with a wary eye for his demonstrative (some would say brutal) use of the whip. But at four feet, ten inches -- tiny even by jockey standards -- Chavez leverages every ounce of his body into making his horses run. It may be ugly, but it's effective. At the ripe age of 39, the former Peruvian street urchin has found horseracing glory. Last year he rode two winners in the Breeders' Cup and was the top finisher during the Gulfstream season. Chavez capped off the year by winning the Eclipse Award for top rider in the country, besting such better-known Gulfstream stablemates as Pat Day and Jerry Bailey and permanently catapulting himself out of the ghetto of 30-to-1 long shots and claiming races. So for now, at least, make that Mr. Chop Chop.
Best Weekend Getaway
On the Banks of the Everglades Bed and Breakfast Inn
If you're like us, you're repelled by the very idea of a bed-and-breakfast. Who in his right mind can relax in somebody else's house while surrounded at the breakfast table by a bunch of overfriendly yahoo tourists? Ugh. A friggin' Motel 6 sounds better than that. But the Banks of the Everglades is a different kind of bed-and-breakfast. You get to choose privacy by staying on the second floor, which has rooms that are fully furnished and have a private bath and kitchen. While the rooms are as fresh and clean as any Holiday Inn, the place is not a cookie-cutter corporate box; rather, it's wholly unique. With the look of an old-time courthouse, the building was constructed in 1923 by the late Barron Collier and served as the first bank in Everglades City. You can eat their delicious breakfast in the old bank vault or, if you find that a bit claustrophobic, outside on the porch facing a royal palm-lined street that is just a short walk from the Gulf. It's not too cheap and not too expensive -- we paid about $100 for our night in an efficiency that was cutesily dubbed "The Foreclosure Department." To get there, simply take the scenic drive through the Everglades on the old Tamiami Trail to Everglades City, which offers great fishing, a nice tour of the naturally gorgeous Ten Thousand Islands, good eats, and the kind of rich, quiet peacefulness you rarely get in Broward and Palm Beach.
Best Weekend Getaway
On the Banks of the Everglades Bed and Breakfast Inn
If you're like us, you're repelled by the very idea of a bed-and-breakfast. Who in his right mind can relax in somebody else's house while surrounded at the breakfast table by a bunch of overfriendly yahoo tourists? Ugh. A friggin' Motel 6 sounds better than that. But the Banks of the Everglades is a different kind of bed-and-breakfast. You get to choose privacy by staying on the second floor, which has rooms that are fully furnished and have a private bath and kitchen. While the rooms are as fresh and clean as any Holiday Inn, the place is not a cookie-cutter corporate box; rather, it's wholly unique. With the look of an old-time courthouse, the building was constructed in 1923 by the late Barron Collier and served as the first bank in Everglades City. You can eat their delicious breakfast in the old bank vault or, if you find that a bit claustrophobic, outside on the porch facing a royal palm-lined street that is just a short walk from the Gulf. It's not too cheap and not too expensive -- we paid about $100 for our night in an efficiency that was cutesily dubbed "The Foreclosure Department." To get there, simply take the scenic drive through the Everglades on the old Tamiami Trail to Everglades City, which offers great fishing, a nice tour of the naturally gorgeous Ten Thousand Islands, good eats, and the kind of rich, quiet peacefulness you rarely get in Broward and Palm Beach.
When we pulled into port and took a turn to starboard, there it was: 16 floors of rest and respite from the seas. We had brought our 148-foot yacht (The Lucky Journalist) in from a winter tour of the Caribbean. Our captain, Raphael, thought it best to bring the ship to the mainland before hurricane season and give the crew of six a rest. As upscale boat owners, we booked ourselves into a poolside lanai room with a sultry, tropical feel that kept us from going into withdrawal. Just to keep ourselves feeling shipshape, we indulged in mud, massage, and haircut at the Spa LXVI. We then took on food supplies aplenty at the aptly named Mariner's Grille and imbibed some grog at the relaxing Pelican Bar. As the sun set, we climbed to the revolving bar that sits on top of the hotel. While the tourists gawked at cruise ships, we took pleasure in keeping a close eye on our yacht docked at the pier. Note to Raphael: Make sure to install more lights on board so all the bar patrons can be duly impressed with the rewards of journalism.
When we pulled into port and took a turn to starboard, there it was: 16 floors of rest and respite from the seas. We had brought our 148-foot yacht (The Lucky Journalist) in from a winter tour of the Caribbean. Our captain, Raphael, thought it best to bring the ship to the mainland before hurricane season and give the crew of six a rest. As upscale boat owners, we booked ourselves into a poolside lanai room with a sultry, tropical feel that kept us from going into withdrawal. Just to keep ourselves feeling shipshape, we indulged in mud, massage, and haircut at the Spa LXVI. We then took on food supplies aplenty at the aptly named Mariner's Grille and imbibed some grog at the relaxing Pelican Bar. As the sun set, we climbed to the revolving bar that sits on top of the hotel. While the tourists gawked at cruise ships, we took pleasure in keeping a close eye on our yacht docked at the pier. Note to Raphael: Make sure to install more lights on board so all the bar patrons can be duly impressed with the rewards of journalism.
There's something for everyone's taste and budget at Hibiscus House, built in 1922 and situated in the quaint historic Old Northwood section of West Palm Beach. There's the garden room with its four-poster bed and private terrace; the burgundy suite with its own private staircase that leads to an elegant sitting room with wet bar and an equally elegant bedroom. If you like to travel with others (another couple, or kids, or your mother-in-law), the 800-square-foot poolside bungalow has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room, dining room, and even a full kitchen, although, as with the other eight rooms, a full breakfast is included. And what a breakfast it is. Prepared by co-owner Raleigh Hill and served on bone china and in Waterford crystal, guests often don't have room for lunch after a Hill breakfast. At 6 p.m. complimentary wine, cocktails, and hors d'oeuvres are served poolside. The perfect place to discuss the stock market and where to go for dinner.
There's something for everyone's taste and budget at Hibiscus House, built in 1922 and situated in the quaint historic Old Northwood section of West Palm Beach. There's the garden room with its four-poster bed and private terrace; the burgundy suite with its own private staircase that leads to an elegant sitting room with wet bar and an equally elegant bedroom. If you like to travel with others (another couple, or kids, or your mother-in-law), the 800-square-foot poolside bungalow has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room, dining room, and even a full kitchen, although, as with the other eight rooms, a full breakfast is included. And what a breakfast it is. Prepared by co-owner Raleigh Hill and served on bone china and in Waterford crystal, guests often don't have room for lunch after a Hill breakfast. At 6 p.m. complimentary wine, cocktails, and hors d'oeuvres are served poolside. The perfect place to discuss the stock market and where to go for dinner.
In 1985 Donald Trump bought this famous mansion on the Atlantic, added lots of gold plating, and turned it into a private club and spa for very special people. Sort of a bed-and-breakfast for the well-to-do. Mar-a-Lago is open to just about anybody who can pony up the $100,000 membership fee without jeopardizing the kids' college fund. If you are one of the few who can afford to join, membership has its privileges: a private beach, a nine-hole par-3 golf course, red clay tennis courts, a world-class spa, and the chance to hang out with celebrities. Known for his aversion to the ritual of the handshake, the Donald has no problem rubbing elbows with the rich and famous: Michael Jackson, Howie Dorough (of Backstreet Boys fame), and Charlton Heston are just some of the beautiful people who have dropped by the mansion for some R and R. Charity functions are also a good time for club members (and the occasional Trump family member) to mingle with Burt Reynolds, Mary Tyler Moore, Julio Iglesias, Tony Bennett, and Michael Douglas.
In 1985 Donald Trump bought this famous mansion on the Atlantic, added lots of gold plating, and turned it into a private club and spa for very special people. Sort of a bed-and-breakfast for the well-to-do. Mar-a-Lago is open to just about anybody who can pony up the $100,000 membership fee without jeopardizing the kids' college fund. If you are one of the few who can afford to join, membership has its privileges: a private beach, a nine-hole par-3 golf course, red clay tennis courts, a world-class spa, and the chance to hang out with celebrities. Known for his aversion to the ritual of the handshake, the Donald has no problem rubbing elbows with the rich and famous: Michael Jackson, Howie Dorough (of Backstreet Boys fame), and Charlton Heston are just some of the beautiful people who have dropped by the mansion for some R and R. Charity functions are also a good time for club members (and the occasional Trump family member) to mingle with Burt Reynolds, Mary Tyler Moore, Julio Iglesias, Tony Bennett, and Michael Douglas.
Before there was online dating, Betsey Chesler met her husband through a dating service. Now he's her ex-husband. "So, I know how not to match people," Chesler likes to say. When she decided to start her own online dating service, one of the only ones that also offers video dating online, she researched the field to find what the authorities -- psychologists, marriage counselors, divorce lawyers -- had to say about personality traits and compatibility. Then she developed a series of questions. On the face of it, these questions -- about religion, education, et cetera -- seem pretty basic. They're quick and easy to answer, except maybe the one that asks you to write an essay about your favorite subject -- you. But Chesler says it's what her custom-designed software allows her to do with the answers that makes the difference. Members are told not only with which other members they match up but how close a match -- percentagewise -- each one is.
Before there was online dating, Betsey Chesler met her husband through a dating service. Now he's her ex-husband. "So, I know how not to match people," Chesler likes to say. When she decided to start her own online dating service, one of the only ones that also offers video dating online, she researched the field to find what the authorities -- psychologists, marriage counselors, divorce lawyers -- had to say about personality traits and compatibility. Then she developed a series of questions. On the face of it, these questions -- about religion, education, et cetera -- seem pretty basic. They're quick and easy to answer, except maybe the one that asks you to write an essay about your favorite subject -- you. But Chesler says it's what her custom-designed software allows her to do with the answers that makes the difference. Members are told not only with which other members they match up but how close a match -- percentagewise -- each one is.
Best Place To See What's Left Of Broward's Undeveloped Coastline
John U. Lloyd Beach State Park
Egad. Two hundred and fifty three acres of primo Broward coast with nary a condominium or strip mall in sight? Yep. John U. Lloyd unfurls its sands and native Florida flora and fauna between Dania Beach and Port Everglades with a narrow tidal waterway winding through the park's length. Rent a canoe and you can cruise through this creek's mangrove-fringed borders or watch an ibis pick its way through the eddies. Visiting the park's quiet southern end makes you want to lie down beneath a patch of pines and take a nap. The north end of the park offers a paved jetty where folks stroll, fish, and mull stuff over. A slatted wooden boardwalk leads toward the jetty, and the first (and only) bench at its foot offers a lateral view of the park's entire pristine stretch of coast. Weekends tend to get hectic, but midweek's the perfect time to take in the sweet sounds of nothing save the tide and an occasional gull.
Best Place To See What's Left Of Broward's Undeveloped Coastline
John U. Lloyd Beach State Park
Egad. Two hundred and fifty three acres of primo Broward coast with nary a condominium or strip mall in sight? Yep. John U. Lloyd unfurls its sands and native Florida flora and fauna between Dania Beach and Port Everglades with a narrow tidal waterway winding through the park's length. Rent a canoe and you can cruise through this creek's mangrove-fringed borders or watch an ibis pick its way through the eddies. Visiting the park's quiet southern end makes you want to lie down beneath a patch of pines and take a nap. The north end of the park offers a paved jetty where folks stroll, fish, and mull stuff over. A slatted wooden boardwalk leads toward the jetty, and the first (and only) bench at its foot offers a lateral view of the park's entire pristine stretch of coast. Weekends tend to get hectic, but midweek's the perfect time to take in the sweet sounds of nothing save the tide and an occasional gull.
Best Scenic Drive
Hollywood Boulevard between Young Circle and the beach
Hollywood founder Joseph Young planned one part of this city right: You'd be hard-pressed to find a prettier place in all of Broward County to whiz by than this stretch. We despise those treacherous circles, but once you navigate your way through them, you reap the reward: four spacious lanes lined by 30-foot palm trees and stately pastel houses. There are no stores, no neon signs, no high rises, and usually no traffic. Put the top down on a breezy night, throw on some Frank Sinatra, breathe the slightly salty air, gawk at the million-dollar houses you could never afford -- especially the historic, canary yellow Young mansion the city is trying to buy -- and let the road sweep you to the beach like a grain of sand. On this road you won't even care if the bridge goes up.
Best Scenic Drive
Hollywood Boulevard between Young Circle and the beach
Hollywood founder Joseph Young planned one part of this city right: You'd be hard-pressed to find a prettier place in all of Broward County to whiz by than this stretch. We despise those treacherous circles, but once you navigate your way through them, you reap the reward: four spacious lanes lined by 30-foot palm trees and stately pastel houses. There are no stores, no neon signs, no high rises, and usually no traffic. Put the top down on a breezy night, throw on some Frank Sinatra, breathe the slightly salty air, gawk at the million-dollar houses you could never afford -- especially the historic, canary yellow Young mansion the city is trying to buy -- and let the road sweep you to the beach like a grain of sand. On this road you won't even care if the bridge goes up.
If you live here, you've heard this name many times, sometimes as the subject of political squabbles and usually as a place commanding the respect of history lovers. The politics seems typical: a developer wanted to put up a 38-story high-rise on the site of the market next door, and Stranahan House lovers fought the plan, taking it to the voters. They opted to buy the market themselves and turn it into a park in a March 2000 referendum, but we'll wait and see if this plays out well for the venerable house and its supporters. The history is unique: Frank and Ivy Stranahan's 1800-square-foot home, built in 1901, is the most famous Broward County landmark, the place where contemporary South Florida life began. You can see the solid, two-story Victorian structure with upper and lower porches and perfectly preserved interior rooms year-round. Seated on the New River, where Seminoles came to trade with the famously honest Stranahans, the house is open for tours Wednesday through Saturday from 10 a.m. till 3 p.m., and Sunday from 1 till 3 p.m.
If you live here, you've heard this name many times, sometimes as the subject of political squabbles and usually as a place commanding the respect of history lovers. The politics seems typical: a developer wanted to put up a 38-story high-rise on the site of the market next door, and Stranahan House lovers fought the plan, taking it to the voters. They opted to buy the market themselves and turn it into a park in a March 2000 referendum, but we'll wait and see if this plays out well for the venerable house and its supporters. The history is unique: Frank and Ivy Stranahan's 1800-square-foot home, built in 1901, is the most famous Broward County landmark, the place where contemporary South Florida life began. You can see the solid, two-story Victorian structure with upper and lower porches and perfectly preserved interior rooms year-round. Seated on the New River, where Seminoles came to trade with the famously honest Stranahans, the house is open for tours Wednesday through Saturday from 10 a.m. till 3 p.m., and Sunday from 1 till 3 p.m.
Best Place To Take Out-Of-Towners
Heliflight Helicopter Air Tours
Let's get serious -- driving your visitors around the crowded roads of Broward or Palm Beach county to get to the beach or the restaurant or the Everglades is OK if you like traffic jams and they don't mind not seeing it all. But there is a way around that which we figure is cheap at the price: a 30-minute chopper ride that gives your relatives and friends a bird's-eye view of the whole South Florida thing. Belted into the vibrating cabin of a Bell Jet Ranger, an Astar, or a Robinson R44, the out-of-towner will see a ribbon of white sand running 60 or 70 miles north and south from a vantage at least 1000 feet above the beach -- without the threat of a traffic jam. The Everglades lie to the west like, well, like a river of grass (Marjory Stoneman Douglas' famous phrase) and between the beach and the 'Glades, the chopper cowboy can see South Florida's famous urban sprawl. Pick a day that's windless (it's not safer, it's just more comfortable), talk your mom and dad into a little adventure, and don't worry about the bucks ($99 for a half-hour ride). It's worth it to say you showed them everything and get it over with.
Best Place To Take Out-Of-Towners
Heliflight Helicopter Air Tours
Let's get serious -- driving your visitors around the crowded roads of Broward or Palm Beach county to get to the beach or the restaurant or the Everglades is OK if you like traffic jams and they don't mind not seeing it all. But there is a way around that which we figure is cheap at the price: a 30-minute chopper ride that gives your relatives and friends a bird's-eye view of the whole South Florida thing. Belted into the vibrating cabin of a Bell Jet Ranger, an Astar, or a Robinson R44, the out-of-towner will see a ribbon of white sand running 60 or 70 miles north and south from a vantage at least 1000 feet above the beach -- without the threat of a traffic jam. The Everglades lie to the west like, well, like a river of grass (Marjory Stoneman Douglas' famous phrase) and between the beach and the 'Glades, the chopper cowboy can see South Florida's famous urban sprawl. Pick a day that's windless (it's not safer, it's just more comfortable), talk your mom and dad into a little adventure, and don't worry about the bucks ($99 for a half-hour ride). It's worth it to say you showed them everything and get it over with.
It's hard to believe that this monument to bad taste has been with us for so long already, but it was back in April 1998 that Al Goldstein, publisher of the fine skin mag Screw, installed the giant stone sculpture of a disembodied palm and fingers in his back yard. Now on view to all who pass by his million-dollar mansion in Pompano Beach, the huge hand with extended middle finger was purchased by Goldstein after it appeared as a prop on the ABC-TV sitcom Spin City. The publisher, now in his mid sixties, isn't known for his refinement; in fact his overuse of the one-finger salute, especially on his New York City cable television show Midnight Blue, has been well-documented. We can only salute him in turn for bringing the sincere and gratuitous gesture to his South Florida friends and neighbors in such a big way.
It's hard to believe that this monument to bad taste has been with us for so long already, but it was back in April 1998 that Al Goldstein, publisher of the fine skin mag Screw, installed the giant stone sculpture of a disembodied palm and fingers in his back yard. Now on view to all who pass by his million-dollar mansion in Pompano Beach, the huge hand with extended middle finger was purchased by Goldstein after it appeared as a prop on the ABC-TV sitcom Spin City. The publisher, now in his mid sixties, isn't known for his refinement; in fact his overuse of the one-finger salute, especially on his New York City cable television show Midnight Blue, has been well-documented. We can only salute him in turn for bringing the sincere and gratuitous gesture to his South Florida friends and neighbors in such a big way.
Best Church on the Other Side of the Tracks
Greater Trinity Baptist Church
Greater Trinity Baptist is literally west of the railroad tracks that separate Dania Beach's haves from the haves-not-as-much -- the traditionally white part of town from the black. In one year Rev. Louis Sanders drove off the drug dealers who used to lurk behind his church, scaring parishioners and forcing a momentous decline in attendance. Then he resurrected a solid community congregation that welcomes all comers. You don't have to be a believer or a Baptist, you don't have to be black (although most of the congregation is) -- you just have to give him a little respect. You'll get it back at you, with Sanders' patent warm welcome and a positive view of a community that has previously been in decline.
Best Church on the Other Side of the Tracks
Greater Trinity Baptist Church
Greater Trinity Baptist is literally west of the railroad tracks that separate Dania Beach's haves from the haves-not-as-much -- the traditionally white part of town from the black. In one year Rev. Louis Sanders drove off the drug dealers who used to lurk behind his church, scaring parishioners and forcing a momentous decline in attendance. Then he resurrected a solid community congregation that welcomes all comers. You don't have to be a believer or a Baptist, you don't have to be black (although most of the congregation is) -- you just have to give him a little respect. You'll get it back at you, with Sanders' patent warm welcome and a positive view of a community that has previously been in decline.
Best Little-Known Attraction
Treasure Coast Wildlife Hospital
It pays to have friends up north (i.e., Martin County). Otherwise we would never have found out about the Treasure Coast Wildlife Hospital, which provides short- and long-term care for wounded, sick, or orphaned critters 24 hours a day. More than 100 permanently impaired animals call this 25-year-old place home, including a one-winged bald eagle, a one-eyed pelican, and a six-year-old bobcat named Sophie who doesn't know how to be a bobcat because her mother got hit by a car when Sophie was only a few days old. We think Sophie has a good life right where she is. The dozen or so pelicans here like this place so much, they're raising a family. You'll also see crocodiles, alligators, and a white-tailed deer. Volunteers are available to answer your animal queries, and there's even a small gift shop with critter-related items. (It's hard to leave without a Tshirt, at least.) Visiting hours are Monday through Friday 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., Saturday from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. Admission is $2, and guided group tours are available.
Best Little-Known Attraction
Treasure Coast Wildlife Hospital
It pays to have friends up north (i.e., Martin County). Otherwise we would never have found out about the Treasure Coast Wildlife Hospital, which provides short- and long-term care for wounded, sick, or orphaned critters 24 hours a day. More than 100 permanently impaired animals call this 25-year-old place home, including a one-winged bald eagle, a one-eyed pelican, and a six-year-old bobcat named Sophie who doesn't know how to be a bobcat because her mother got hit by a car when Sophie was only a few days old. We think Sophie has a good life right where she is. The dozen or so pelicans here like this place so much, they're raising a family. You'll also see crocodiles, alligators, and a white-tailed deer. Volunteers are available to answer your animal queries, and there's even a small gift shop with critter-related items. (It's hard to leave without a Tshirt, at least.) Visiting hours are Monday through Friday 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., Saturday from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. Admission is $2, and guided group tours are available.
This is a tough category in a county with such gems as Markham Park in Sunrise and the great beach parks maintained by the state, John U. Lloyd and Hugh Taylor Birch. Our pick is Snyder, an unpretentious city park of 93 acres that offers everything you need in a park, and all on a city budget. Snyder has two freshwater ponds, one with a football field-long swimming beach and weekend lifeguards to protect the kids; canoe and kayak rentals; hiking trails through sometimes dense foliage; paved trails for jogging, bicycling, or Rollerblading; a softball field; basketball courts; and picnic areas. It's clean, it's managed by some of the friendliest city workers you can find, and at twilight it's romantic. Snyder is also cheap. On weekends or holidays you'll pay $2 a person unless you're very young or very old, then it's $1.50. The weekday entrance fee is $1.50 or $1.
This is a tough category in a county with such gems as Markham Park in Sunrise and the great beach parks maintained by the state, John U. Lloyd and Hugh Taylor Birch. Our pick is Snyder, an unpretentious city park of 93 acres that offers everything you need in a park, and all on a city budget. Snyder has two freshwater ponds, one with a football field-long swimming beach and weekend lifeguards to protect the kids; canoe and kayak rentals; hiking trails through sometimes dense foliage; paved trails for jogging, bicycling, or Rollerblading; a softball field; basketball courts; and picnic areas. It's clean, it's managed by some of the friendliest city workers you can find, and at twilight it's romantic. Snyder is also cheap. On weekends or holidays you'll pay $2 a person unless you're very young or very old, then it's $1.50. The weekday entrance fee is $1.50 or $1.
Last year in this space we kind of goofed on Don Bailey, who is now a senior citizen but posed nude on his carpet at the age of 40 and has used the resultant painting to sell his wares ever since. You've seen the signs, where Bailey is propped on his side, wearing a slightly suggestive smile and little else. While giving Bailey his props for having the courage to bare all in his quest to sell rugs, we also noted that the ads were kind of "creepy," and that Bailey looked like a "pasty version of Hugh Beaumont from Leave It to Beaver" in the ads. We figured that Bailey either suffered from a chronic skin condition or hailed from Britain. Well, it looks like our frank comments spurred Bailey to action. He recently renovated the signs using the original portrait, and it seems that the pastiness wasn't a product of Bailey himself -- it was the work of the elements. To our amazement the new, nonweatherworn portrait confirms Bailey's contention that he was a stud in his time. He had a trim, fit physique and wasn't pasty in the least. In fact Bailey was actually reminiscent of the man who'd inspired the ad, Burt Reynolds, back when Reynolds was America's leading male sex symbol. Bailey, we're sorry we ever doubted ye.
Last year in this space we kind of goofed on Don Bailey, who is now a senior citizen but posed nude on his carpet at the age of 40 and has used the resultant painting to sell his wares ever since. You've seen the signs, where Bailey is propped on his side, wearing a slightly suggestive smile and little else. While giving Bailey his props for having the courage to bare all in his quest to sell rugs, we also noted that the ads were kind of "creepy," and that Bailey looked like a "pasty version of Hugh Beaumont from Leave It to Beaver" in the ads. We figured that Bailey either suffered from a chronic skin condition or hailed from Britain. Well, it looks like our frank comments spurred Bailey to action. He recently renovated the signs using the original portrait, and it seems that the pastiness wasn't a product of Bailey himself -- it was the work of the elements. To our amazement the new, nonweatherworn portrait confirms Bailey's contention that he was a stud in his time. He had a trim, fit physique and wasn't pasty in the least. In fact Bailey was actually reminiscent of the man who'd inspired the ad, Burt Reynolds, back when Reynolds was America's leading male sex symbol. Bailey, we're sorry we ever doubted ye.
Best Alternative Medicine Man
Robert D. Willix, Jr., M.D.
When was the last time your doctor prescribed laugh therapy? Or spent one-and-one-half to two hours with you on your initial visit? And really listened to more than just the beating of your heart? Robert Willix does. Sure, it'll cost ya -- $375 to $500. (Follow-up visits, usually four to six weeks later, cost $75.) And no, your insurance won't cover it. But think of it this way: You've probably spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars on doctors in your insurance plan, and you still don't feel good. Even better, did you notice the M.D. after his name? It's the real thing. Willix used to be a heart surgeon but gave that up two decades ago to practice alternative medicine "in its purest form," he says. But if the Chinese medicine doesn't work, he'll prescribe the drugs.
Best Alternative Medicine Man
Robert D. Willix, Jr., M.D.
When was the last time your doctor prescribed laugh therapy? Or spent one-and-one-half to two hours with you on your initial visit? And really listened to more than just the beating of your heart? Robert Willix does. Sure, it'll cost ya -- $375 to $500. (Follow-up visits, usually four to six weeks later, cost $75.) And no, your insurance won't cover it. But think of it this way: You've probably spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars on doctors in your insurance plan, and you still don't feel good. Even better, did you notice the M.D. after his name? It's the real thing. Willix used to be a heart surgeon but gave that up two decades ago to practice alternative medicine "in its purest form," he says. But if the Chinese medicine doesn't work, he'll prescribe the drugs.
Best place to bury a pet
The City of Boca Raton Animal Shelter Pet Cemetery
It's so peaceful here. So serene. So well cared for. Some people, like 78-year-old Malka Lewin, come every day to visit their dearly departed pets and to tend to the décor they've created at the little gravesites: plants, photos, statues. A lot of credit goes to cemetery manager Jim Kovalcik, who has been working here for more than 13 years. This 1400-plot cemetery has been here since 1978; fewer than 300 plots are left. The cost to bury your pet (dog, cat, rabbit, bird, ferret, "whatever fits") ranges from $650 to $800, and that includes the gravesite, a marker, the casket (your choice of three), and time in the viewing room before the burial. Kovalcik performs the graveside memorial service and lowers the casket into the ground, also included in the price. Generally Kovalcik asks if anyone has anything to say; then he concludes the ceremony with a few comforting words, like what grief means and how it always hurts to lose a beloved member of the family.
Best place to bury a pet
The City of Boca Raton Animal Shelter Pet Cemetery
It's so peaceful here. So serene. So well cared for. Some people, like 78-year-old Malka Lewin, come every day to visit their dearly departed pets and to tend to the décor they've created at the little gravesites: plants, photos, statues. A lot of credit goes to cemetery manager Jim Kovalcik, who has been working here for more than 13 years. This 1400-plot cemetery has been here since 1978; fewer than 300 plots are left. The cost to bury your pet (dog, cat, rabbit, bird, ferret, "whatever fits") ranges from $650 to $800, and that includes the gravesite, a marker, the casket (your choice of three), and time in the viewing room before the burial. Kovalcik performs the graveside memorial service and lowers the casket into the ground, also included in the price. Generally Kovalcik asks if anyone has anything to say; then he concludes the ceremony with a few comforting words, like what grief means and how it always hurts to lose a beloved member of the family.
If you've never done hatha yoga before, instructor Vera Paley is your gal. She specializes in teaching novices (though she teaches intermediate levels too) in a way that's, well, awe-inspiring. Watch Paley do the shoulder stand, the frog, the fish, the spinal twist, and you'll be saying, "Hey, if she can do it, I can too." After all, Paley, our role model for old (whatever that is), turned 80 last year. Maybe that's why her favorite line is, "You're never too old -- or young -- to do yoga." (Some of her newest students are older than she is.) Another favorite line, "You're only as young as your spine is flexible." Meaning: If you can't sit on the floor with your legs stretched out and touch your forehead to your knees, you know whom to call.
If you've never done hatha yoga before, instructor Vera Paley is your gal. She specializes in teaching novices (though she teaches intermediate levels too) in a way that's, well, awe-inspiring. Watch Paley do the shoulder stand, the frog, the fish, the spinal twist, and you'll be saying, "Hey, if she can do it, I can too." After all, Paley, our role model for old (whatever that is), turned 80 last year. Maybe that's why her favorite line is, "You're never too old -- or young -- to do yoga." (Some of her newest students are older than she is.) Another favorite line, "You're only as young as your spine is flexible." Meaning: If you can't sit on the floor with your legs stretched out and touch your forehead to your knees, you know whom to call.
Best Place To Contemplate The Unbridled Development Of South Florida
The Palms
Looming precariously over A1A like a Jenga tower ready to topple, the bright pink, perpetually-under-construction Palms is visible from Lauderdale-by-the-Sea down to Port Everglades. Viewed from an airplane, the high-rise condo reaches upward like a rosy flare, warning that you are about to touch down in a jungle of over-development. But the Palms is notable not just for its questionable, pretentious aesthetics. It also symbolically represents the development ethos of Fort Lauderdale, where the city commission has never met a building plan it didn't like or a lobbyist's check it couldn't cash. Here's an exercise to conduct. Put on your UV ray- blocking sunglasses and wander over to the Palms. Take out a measuring tape and see exactly how much "green space" surrounds the building. Then check out the City of Fort Lauderdale's building regulations regarding how much green space is required per foot of building and see how the two measurements mesh. How did this happen?
Best Place To Contemplate The Unbridled Development Of South Florida
The Palms
Looming precariously over A1A like a Jenga tower ready to topple, the bright pink, perpetually-under-construction Palms is visible from Lauderdale-by-the-Sea down to Port Everglades. Viewed from an airplane, the high-rise condo reaches upward like a rosy flare, warning that you are about to touch down in a jungle of over-development. But the Palms is notable not just for its questionable, pretentious aesthetics. It also symbolically represents the development ethos of Fort Lauderdale, where the city commission has never met a building plan it didn't like or a lobbyist's check it couldn't cash. Here's an exercise to conduct. Put on your UV ray- blocking sunglasses and wander over to the Palms. Take out a measuring tape and see exactly how much "green space" surrounds the building. Then check out the City of Fort Lauderdale's building regulations regarding how much green space is required per foot of building and see how the two measurements mesh. How did this happen?
Take a wisecracking sports junkie from Brooklyn whose accent makes De Niro sound like a Harvard grad, team him with a former college and NFL place-kicker who may be the Doogie Howser of pop culture, and you have the two-headed morning-radio monster affectionately known as Scott and Sid. Their unique mix of sports commentary and a youthful sense of humor that, according to them, borders on irreverence and bad taste, breathes a breath of fresh air into the South Florida radio arena, where Ron and Ron, Howard, and Neil have become so much stale bread. In 1997, Coral Springs High School grad Scott Kaplan turned his connections from a short-lived professional-football stint into an opportunity to host an online radio show at sportsline.com, with Sidney Rosenberg joining him shortly thereafter. Now, just three years later, after being syndicated by CBS radio, their four-hour show reaches more than 25 cities from Maine to Sacramento. They've become the favorite sons of the 18-to-35 demographic, representing South Florida with their paesano-flavored "Lauder-DALE!" They have the social agenda of Jeff Spicoli, the humor of a young Andrew Dice Clay, and the brash attitude of Tony Soprano, whose TV series they plug with reckless abandon. Even some of their regular callers have reached celebrity-like status. Whether they're broadcasting a live play-by-play of a hot-body contest at Bootleggers or jabbering away with the top names in sports and entertainment, these guys do it every morning.
Take a wisecracking sports junkie from Brooklyn whose accent makes De Niro sound like a Harvard grad, team him with a former college and NFL place-kicker who may be the Doogie Howser of pop culture, and you have the two-headed morning-radio monster affectionately known as Scott and Sid. Their unique mix of sports commentary and a youthful sense of humor that, according to them, borders on irreverence and bad taste, breathes a breath of fresh air into the South Florida radio arena, where Ron and Ron, Howard, and Neil have become so much stale bread. In 1997, Coral Springs High School grad Scott Kaplan turned his connections from a short-lived professional-football stint into an opportunity to host an online radio show at sportsline.com, with Sidney Rosenberg joining him shortly thereafter. Now, just three years later, after being syndicated by CBS radio, their four-hour show reaches more than 25 cities from Maine to Sacramento. They've become the favorite sons of the 18-to-35 demographic, representing South Florida with their paesano-flavored "Lauder-DALE!" They have the social agenda of Jeff Spicoli, the humor of a young Andrew Dice Clay, and the brash attitude of Tony Soprano, whose TV series they plug with reckless abandon. Even some of their regular callers have reached celebrity-like status. Whether they're broadcasting a live play-by-play of a hot-body contest at Bootleggers or jabbering away with the top names in sports and entertainment, these guys do it every morning.
The grueling workweek is done, and you have that measly little crumpled paycheck in your back pocket. That small piece of paper represents your toil, your sweat, your blood. And it's barely enough to keep a leaking roof over your head. So what do you do? You take it to Blackstone's, where you not only cash the check (minus a mere 2.5 percent or so), but you get a bottle of their cheapest whiskey to help you forget all about the horrible pay, the terrible job, your bad credit, and the fact that you're all alone in this world. It goes for $8.99 a liter, and it has all the charm and taste of a rag-wrapped old can of turpentine from your father's garage. That's not important. It gets the job done, and you still have a few dimes left to buy a can of Van Camp's pork and beans for dinner from Blackstone's food section. You're set for the weekend. It's a wonderful life.
The grueling workweek is done, and you have that measly little crumpled paycheck in your back pocket. That small piece of paper represents your toil, your sweat, your blood. And it's barely enough to keep a leaking roof over your head. So what do you do? You take it to Blackstone's, where you not only cash the check (minus a mere 2.5 percent or so), but you get a bottle of their cheapest whiskey to help you forget all about the horrible pay, the terrible job, your bad credit, and the fact that you're all alone in this world. It goes for $8.99 a liter, and it has all the charm and taste of a rag-wrapped old can of turpentine from your father's garage. That's not important. It gets the job done, and you still have a few dimes left to buy a can of Van Camp's pork and beans for dinner from Blackstone's food section. You're set for the weekend. It's a wonderful life.
It's not his 21-year résumé as a TV meteorologist, his two Emmys, or even his batting average in predicting hail versus heat that singles out Kamal. It's his style. His hair's always plentifully gelled, his tightly tailored suits gleam with a pseudo-sharkskin veneer, and his tie is exquisitely knotted in just the right spot. All of that gives Kamal the presence of a Vegas high roller, a well-heeled stockbroker, or an up-and-coming New York don. He also had that little run-in with the cops over a D.U.I. rap. Let's face it, the weather broadcast runs pretty much the same from one channel to the next, but Kamal's snappy showmanship stands out in a sea of blue-and-khaki blandness. We're grateful for the shifty zip he brings to local broadcasts.
It's not his 21-year résumé as a TV meteorologist, his two Emmys, or even his batting average in predicting hail versus heat that singles out Kamal. It's his style. His hair's always plentifully gelled, his tightly tailored suits gleam with a pseudo-sharkskin veneer, and his tie is exquisitely knotted in just the right spot. All of that gives Kamal the presence of a Vegas high roller, a well-heeled stockbroker, or an up-and-coming New York don. He also had that little run-in with the cops over a D.U.I. rap. Let's face it, the weather broadcast runs pretty much the same from one channel to the next, but Kamal's snappy showmanship stands out in a sea of blue-and-khaki blandness. We're grateful for the shifty zip he brings to local broadcasts.
Spend the night in a king-size bed in a spacious suite with Jacuzzi and private deck overlooking the St. Lucie River. Imagine candles around your whirlpool tub -- or walk-in shower for two; breakfast (ambrosia-stuffed French toast, perhaps) in bed or on your deck -- at noon or anytime. Owner JoAyne Elbert prides herself on the individualized services she offers. Her romance packages include fresh flowers in your suite; wine, cheese, and fruit upon arrival; champagne with your breakfast; a massage in your room; candlelit dinner for two; sunset sail; hot-air balloon ride. These mix-and-match packages start at $205, depending upon what you choose from the love menu. Or you can do your own thing for $85 to $165 per room per night, which includes the full breakfast (though not in bed) and wine and cheese at sunset. Be sure to save time to lie in the two-person hammock under the old oak tree overlooking the St. Lucie River.
Spend the night in a king-size bed in a spacious suite with Jacuzzi and private deck overlooking the St. Lucie River. Imagine candles around your whirlpool tub -- or walk-in shower for two; breakfast (ambrosia-stuffed French toast, perhaps) in bed or on your deck -- at noon or anytime. Owner JoAyne Elbert prides herself on the individualized services she offers. Her romance packages include fresh flowers in your suite; wine, cheese, and fruit upon arrival; champagne with your breakfast; a massage in your room; candlelit dinner for two; sunset sail; hot-air balloon ride. These mix-and-match packages start at $205, depending upon what you choose from the love menu. Or you can do your own thing for $85 to $165 per room per night, which includes the full breakfast (though not in bed) and wine and cheese at sunset. Be sure to save time to lie in the two-person hammock under the old oak tree overlooking the St. Lucie River.
There's a dichotomy inherent in junkyards. On one hand, they're brooding, melancholy places filled with the ruins of other people's lives. You never have to look far to find a head-size hole in a windshield or car seats heavily stained with black splotches of dried blood. On the other hand, junkyards are monuments to the possible. An artist turned loose in a good one can go into sensory overload -- so much raw material, so little time. And let's not forget the ability to keep your own car on the road for practically nothing by harvesting parts. Too many yards these days feature a surly guy behind the counter who'd laugh in your face if you asked to nose around. But at U-Pull-It, nosing around is the whole idea. It costs $1 to get in; after that you're free to roam the ruins of the machine age all damned day if you like. Bring your tools, steel-toed boots, and a wagon to haul off your booty. Just be a little reverential while you're wrenching: Most junkyards are haunted, and you don't want to anger the spirits.
There's a dichotomy inherent in junkyards. On one hand, they're brooding, melancholy places filled with the ruins of other people's lives. You never have to look far to find a head-size hole in a windshield or car seats heavily stained with black splotches of dried blood. On the other hand, junkyards are monuments to the possible. An artist turned loose in a good one can go into sensory overload -- so much raw material, so little time. And let's not forget the ability to keep your own car on the road for practically nothing by harvesting parts. Too many yards these days feature a surly guy behind the counter who'd laugh in your face if you asked to nose around. But at U-Pull-It, nosing around is the whole idea. It costs $1 to get in; after that you're free to roam the ruins of the machine age all damned day if you like. Bring your tools, steel-toed boots, and a wagon to haul off your booty. Just be a little reverential while you're wrenching: Most junkyards are haunted, and you don't want to anger the spirits.
Weston's the quintessential safe American suburb -- critics call it an escape from reality -- but don't make the mistake of thinking that your small children will miss out on the rich diversity of American culture if you send them to an expensive private school there. They won't. The Sagemont School offers classes from preschool to the eighth grade and has about 400 students who represent more than 30 countries, including all of the Central and South American nations. The student-teacher ratio is about ten to one, computers and bilingual education are standard, and parents are strongly encouraged to participate as volunteers in the education of their children. Many teachers at the school hold master's degrees; all are certified. Seated on a verdant, five-acre campus that includes a pond (fenced off from the facing playground), Sagemont's one-story structure unfolds in three pods joined by walkways. Every student from kindergarten up spends a lot of time on the computer, and the school offers before- and after-hours care. We think this is probably as good as it gets in Broward County for private education -- and of course you'll pay. Tuition is $7300 for younger kids and $9000 for those in the sixth grade and up. A new campus is under construction as a high school.
Weston's the quintessential safe American suburb -- critics call it an escape from reality -- but don't make the mistake of thinking that your small children will miss out on the rich diversity of American culture if you send them to an expensive private school there. They won't. The Sagemont School offers classes from preschool to the eighth grade and has about 400 students who represent more than 30 countries, including all of the Central and South American nations. The student-teacher ratio is about ten to one, computers and bilingual education are standard, and parents are strongly encouraged to participate as volunteers in the education of their children. Many teachers at the school hold master's degrees; all are certified. Seated on a verdant, five-acre campus that includes a pond (fenced off from the facing playground), Sagemont's one-story structure unfolds in three pods joined by walkways. Every student from kindergarten up spends a lot of time on the computer, and the school offers before- and after-hours care. We think this is probably as good as it gets in Broward County for private education -- and of course you'll pay. Tuition is $7300 for younger kids and $9000 for those in the sixth grade and up. A new campus is under construction as a high school.
Best Place To Meet Members Of The Opposite Sex
Calvary Chapel Fort Lauderdale
Praise Jesus! On Saturday nights at Calvary Chapel, the place is literally swarming with hundreds of beatific young hotties in the throws of passion. Of course they're all hot and passionate about the big J.C., but don't let that dissuade you. Just think: What would Jesus do? We think he would've scored. Remember Mary Magdalene? Anyone sucked in by the mind control of organized religion could surely be susceptible to your own persuasive powers. Just remember to talk about the Power and the Kingdom and the Glory. And when you wake up on Sunday morning and tell your new friend that you'd rather be stapled to a cross with footlong spikes than ever set foot in that church again, well… we hope he or she will take it in the Christian spirit. Amen.
Best Place To Meet Members Of The Opposite Sex
Calvary Chapel Fort Lauderdale
Praise Jesus! On Saturday nights at Calvary Chapel, the place is literally swarming with hundreds of beatific young hotties in the throws of passion. Of course they're all hot and passionate about the big J.C., but don't let that dissuade you. Just think: What would Jesus do? We think he would've scored. Remember Mary Magdalene? Anyone sucked in by the mind control of organized religion could surely be susceptible to your own persuasive powers. Just remember to talk about the Power and the Kingdom and the Glory. And when you wake up on Sunday morning and tell your new friend that you'd rather be stapled to a cross with footlong spikes than ever set foot in that church again, well… we hope he or she will take it in the Christian spirit. Amen.
We shudder when entering most public bathrooms (think any Greyhound bus station toilet). But we found one we want to move into. Check out the ladies' lounge at the Weston Hills Country Club next time you're out west. (Yes, they'll let you use the lounge even if you're not a member.) You'll understand why it's part of the tour all prospective members get. The aroma of flowers greets you the second you enter the room, which is a far cry from the usual bathroom scent. But wait, this doesn't even look like a bathroom -- it looks more like someone's living room. A brocaded Victorian couch trimmed in gold fringe beckons. Deep brass bowls filled with potpourri and flower arrangements rest on cherry-wood tables. The wood-shuttered French windows open to a halcyon view of palm trees and gently waving grasses. Four rose-cushioned chairs face ornately etched mirrors; frosted glass lamps providing the perfect lighting for makeup touch-ups. Your feet sink into the floral wall-to-wall carpeting. The toilets and sinks are in an adjoining room. The soap bins are always full of peach-scented soap, and there are even dispensers of mouthwash and lotion next to little plastic cups on a lace doily. The only problem we saw: a garbage can filled with used paper towels. Oh well. Even the Garden of Eden had a flaw.
For a landed view, it's best to land among the landed gentry, of course. You can do that in this little corner of the wealthy universe high atop the Bank of America Building. How high above the earth is 28 stories, the altitude of the Tower Club? About a million miles for those of us who toil the streets below, working for a living. But for those who languish in huge leather armchairs or dine in Continental opulence above the rest of Broward's 1.5 million denizens, 28 stories is about 370 feet above the pavement. Ride up, walk in, take a look. You'll see the blue Atlantic sweeping in from North Africa to the east, the Everglades rolling out toward the gulf to the west. Great views of South Florida's famous development frenzy stretch to the north and south, too. If you aren't going to join the club, the least you can do is show up with a resignation letter in hand, à la Groucho Marx: "Please accept my resignation. I don't care to belong to any social organization that will accept me as a member." Just be sure to give them the letter after you look at the view.
For a landed view, it's best to land among the landed gentry, of course. You can do that in this little corner of the wealthy universe high atop the Bank of America Building. How high above the earth is 28 stories, the altitude of the Tower Club? About a million miles for those of us who toil the streets below, working for a living. But for those who languish in huge leather armchairs or dine in Continental opulence above the rest of Broward's 1.5 million denizens, 28 stories is about 370 feet above the pavement. Ride up, walk in, take a look. You'll see the blue Atlantic sweeping in from North Africa to the east, the Everglades rolling out toward the gulf to the west. Great views of South Florida's famous development frenzy stretch to the north and south, too. If you aren't going to join the club, the least you can do is show up with a resignation letter in hand, à la Groucho Marx: "Please accept my resignation. I don't care to belong to any social organization that will accept me as a member." Just be sure to give them the letter after you look at the view.
Imagine you're the personnel director of an NFL expansion team and you have the opportunity to pick any player from the Dolphins roster for your new squad. Cornerback Sam Madison is one of the best in the league at his position, and wide receiver O.J. McDuffie led the league in receptions a year ago; either would be a good choice. But when it comes to being the best Dolphins player, middle linebacker Zach Thomas is the meanest fish in the tank. The defensive spark plug many NFL insiders considered too small at five feet, eleven inches and 235 pounds has led the team in tackles every season since being drafted in the fifth round in 1996. What Thomas lacks in size, he makes up for in intensity and versatility. How many players have the power to go head-up on Steelers running back Jerome Bettis -- a guy nicknamed "the Bus" for his bruising running style -- flatten him like a pancake, and still possess the speed to cover Raiders wideout Tim Brown on a deep crossing pattern? Thomas' teammates and coaches consistently recognize him as one of the hardest workers on the team. His character, fire, and athletic ability make him the heart and soul of a nasty defense that has come to be known as one of the stingiest in the NFL. While other players may be involved in one or two plays per drive, the Dolphins' middle man usually contributes on every down, thus continuing Miami's tradition of gritty defensive field generals.
Imagine you're the personnel director of an NFL expansion team and you have the opportunity to pick any player from the Dolphins roster for your new squad. Cornerback Sam Madison is one of the best in the league at his position, and wide receiver O.J. McDuffie led the league in receptions a year ago; either would be a good choice. But when it comes to being the best Dolphins player, middle linebacker Zach Thomas is the meanest fish in the tank. The defensive spark plug many NFL insiders considered too small at five feet, eleven inches and 235 pounds has led the team in tackles every season since being drafted in the fifth round in 1996. What Thomas lacks in size, he makes up for in intensity and versatility. How many players have the power to go head-up on Steelers running back Jerome Bettis -- a guy nicknamed "the Bus" for his bruising running style -- flatten him like a pancake, and still possess the speed to cover Raiders wideout Tim Brown on a deep crossing pattern? Thomas' teammates and coaches consistently recognize him as one of the hardest workers on the team. His character, fire, and athletic ability make him the heart and soul of a nasty defense that has come to be known as one of the stingiest in the NFL. While other players may be involved in one or two plays per drive, the Dolphins' middle man usually contributes on every down, thus continuing Miami's tradition of gritty defensive field generals.
South Florida is congested as hell. Yet it seems that every other car on the road is a Corvette, Porsche, or some other high-horse ride that was born to run. What to do? You can take the tack most do around here and drive like a freakin' idiot from stoplight to stoplight, or you can point that pony west and open 'er up on Alligator Alley. We recommend the latter for three reasons: (a) It's straight and flat as a pool table, which means that (b) there aren't many places for the cops to hide, and (c) traffic is usually light and well spaced so that, if you run off the road at a high speed, you won't take innocent bystanders with you. You still have to keep an eye peeled for the Florida Highway Patrol, but if you're the least bit alert, you should be able to get away with exceeding the speed limit. Just don't send us the ticket if they nab you.
South Florida is congested as hell. Yet it seems that every other car on the road is a Corvette, Porsche, or some other high-horse ride that was born to run. What to do? You can take the tack most do around here and drive like a freakin' idiot from stoplight to stoplight, or you can point that pony west and open 'er up on Alligator Alley. We recommend the latter for three reasons: (a) It's straight and flat as a pool table, which means that (b) there aren't many places for the cops to hide, and (c) traffic is usually light and well spaced so that, if you run off the road at a high speed, you won't take innocent bystanders with you. You still have to keep an eye peeled for the Florida Highway Patrol, but if you're the least bit alert, you should be able to get away with exceeding the speed limit. Just don't send us the ticket if they nab you.
Love, sex,… and death. So you're gonna drop the bastard, eh? You're gonna, what, tell a good woman it's not really her, it's you, you're the problem, so don't worry while you just tear her heart out? You're gonna let him know -- you feel suffocated. He's a great guy, he has changed the landscape of your heart. (Remember that line, "the landscape of your heart.") But no way, José. Now the question becomes simple. Where to do it? You do not want any place that suggests the landscape of a heart or that suggests hope. You want just the opposite. A cemetery, obviously. After all, this is what breaking up is all about. It's about dying. And being reborn. What better place than a Catholic cemetery? Those Catholics are really into death and resurrection. So we recommend taking your soon-to-be ex to Queen of Heaven, which provides 100 acres to walk around while you deliver the message. And if you're dropping a real SOB, if you really want to bury somebody who treated you badly, you can do it there, too. For $1300 a plot.
Love, sex,… and death. So you're gonna drop the bastard, eh? You're gonna, what, tell a good woman it's not really her, it's you, you're the problem, so don't worry while you just tear her heart out? You're gonna let him know -- you feel suffocated. He's a great guy, he has changed the landscape of your heart. (Remember that line, "the landscape of your heart.") But no way, José. Now the question becomes simple. Where to do it? You do not want any place that suggests the landscape of a heart or that suggests hope. You want just the opposite. A cemetery, obviously. After all, this is what breaking up is all about. It's about dying. And being reborn. What better place than a Catholic cemetery? Those Catholics are really into death and resurrection. So we recommend taking your soon-to-be ex to Queen of Heaven, which provides 100 acres to walk around while you deliver the message. And if you're dropping a real SOB, if you really want to bury somebody who treated you badly, you can do it there, too. For $1300 a plot.
No more beautiful city site awaits your need for resurrection -- the resurrection of old love into new, perhaps -- than this flawless and tiny park, awash in history. Here the Colee family was massacred (no need to bring this up) on January 6, 1836, unleashing the Second Seminole Indian War. The Seminoles and the U.S. government never did make up, perhaps because they didn't sit down together at this spot, hold hands, and study the water. But you can. The park is a circle of green pressed to the river, commanded by two majestic trees at its center: a banyan and a live oak -- two sturdy trees symbolizing your new commitment. No more than 50 yards in diameter, the circle is ringed on its outer edge by palms and gumbo-limbos. Beyond that lush, city-kept flora stands a neighborhood of such quiet opulence that the sense of well-being is perfect for your voicing of long-term plans. The houses of the wealthy -- manicured and made up like castles -- appear across the water as well, an inspiration for where you will spend your years together. At Colee Hammock you can find free parking, few people, thoughtfully placed benches affording privacy, the soothing movement of water, and apparent order in all things. But can you find the right words? Remember: "Love's not Time's fool," as Shakespeare said.
No more beautiful city site awaits your need for resurrection -- the resurrection of old love into new, perhaps -- than this flawless and tiny park, awash in history. Here the Colee family was massacred (no need to bring this up) on January 6, 1836, unleashing the Second Seminole Indian War. The Seminoles and the U.S. government never did make up, perhaps because they didn't sit down together at this spot, hold hands, and study the water. But you can. The park is a circle of green pressed to the river, commanded by two majestic trees at its center: a banyan and a live oak -- two sturdy trees symbolizing your new commitment. No more than 50 yards in diameter, the circle is ringed on its outer edge by palms and gumbo-limbos. Beyond that lush, city-kept flora stands a neighborhood of such quiet opulence that the sense of well-being is perfect for your voicing of long-term plans. The houses of the wealthy -- manicured and made up like castles -- appear across the water as well, an inspiration for where you will spend your years together. At Colee Hammock you can find free parking, few people, thoughtfully placed benches affording privacy, the soothing movement of water, and apparent order in all things. But can you find the right words? Remember: "Love's not Time's fool," as Shakespeare said.
Best Place To Find A Dinner Date
Sushi For Singles at the Palm Beach School of Cooking
Who needs singles bars -- or, for that matter, sushi bars -- when there's Sushi For Singles? The brainchild of Doreen Moore, owner of the Palm Beach School of Cooking, Sushi For Singles is a series of three-hour monthly (sometimes bimonthly) cooking classes in which singles learn how to make five different kinds of sushi rolls. She also leaves time for a little chitchat and sake because, really, what would an evening of sushi be without them? While we can't guarantee that you'll leave with a date (although a number of romances have blossomed since Moore started these events), at least you won't leave hungry. The cost: $45. Preregistration is required. By the way, Moore tries to keep an equal male-female ratio in her classes.
Best Place To Find A Dinner Date
Sushi For Singles at the Palm Beach School of Cooking
Who needs singles bars -- or, for that matter, sushi bars -- when there's Sushi For Singles? The brainchild of Doreen Moore, owner of the Palm Beach School of Cooking, Sushi For Singles is a series of three-hour monthly (sometimes bimonthly) cooking classes in which singles learn how to make five different kinds of sushi rolls. She also leaves time for a little chitchat and sake because, really, what would an evening of sushi be without them? While we can't guarantee that you'll leave with a date (although a number of romances have blossomed since Moore started these events), at least you won't leave hungry. The cost: $45. Preregistration is required. By the way, Moore tries to keep an equal male-female ratio in her classes.
Best Reason To Watch The Miami Fusion (On Television)
Ray Hudson
Perhaps sportscaster Ray Hudson is the reason the Fusion can barely get a paltry 8000 fans into the seats at Lockhart Stadium. Instead of shelling out $12 to sit in the hot sun, everyone's at home in the a/c watching and listening to Hudson's overheated commentary on the Sunshine Network. We wouldn't blame them. The shaggy-haired Brit and former Fort Lauderdale Striker is to football broadcasts what John Madden is to, well, the other football broadcasts. Hudson's improvised, opinionated rants may occasionally veer into the zany and unsupportable, but at least he has some opinions. And when he describes a player as having "more curves and switches than Space Mountain," it's simply a joy to be in front of the tube. Those who still proclaim soccer a boring, lackluster sport have yet to hear Hudson call a match.
Best Reason To Watch The Miami Fusion (On Television)
Ray Hudson
Perhaps sportscaster Ray Hudson is the reason the Fusion can barely get a paltry 8000 fans into the seats at Lockhart Stadium. Instead of shelling out $12 to sit in the hot sun, everyone's at home in the a/c watching and listening to Hudson's overheated commentary on the Sunshine Network. We wouldn't blame them. The shaggy-haired Brit and former Fort Lauderdale Striker is to football broadcasts what John Madden is to, well, the other football broadcasts. Hudson's improvised, opinionated rants may occasionally veer into the zany and unsupportable, but at least he has some opinions. And when he describes a player as having "more curves and switches than Space Mountain," it's simply a joy to be in front of the tube. Those who still proclaim soccer a boring, lackluster sport have yet to hear Hudson call a match.
High up in the bird's nest better known as the second floor of the Elbo Room, the world is a fishbowl. A fashion show. A freak show. Nowhere in Broward and Palm Beach counties is the people parade more entertaining. Grab a beer, pull up a seat, rest your elbows on the railing, and take a gander down at the intersection of Las Olas and Fort Lauderdale Beach boulevards. The usual cast of musclebound macho men will be assembled there, most with his twin pit bull or boxer at his side. Anything to heighten their masculinity in the eyes of the freshly enhanced females nearby -- you know, the ones who just don't realize that they've been putting oil on their thong-exposed buttocks for the past 15 minutes. If you're going to show up at this corner, you'd better have something that defines you, lets people know who you are. Perhaps an eight-foot boa constrictor around the neck; that's always an attention-getter. Or you could be like the two fully padded guys in kickboxing gear who hold impromptu sparring exhibitions there. You'll probably see kids kicking a hackey sack around and at least one or two people playing music for passersby. From this vantage point, you can also watch the people who watch -- like the guy with the map in his hand and fanny pack on, pointing his camera toward the sand. Last but not least, it's always great fun to see spring breakers stumbling to keep their pants up and their food down.
High up in the bird's nest better known as the second floor of the Elbo Room, the world is a fishbowl. A fashion show. A freak show. Nowhere in Broward and Palm Beach counties is the people parade more entertaining. Grab a beer, pull up a seat, rest your elbows on the railing, and take a gander down at the intersection of Las Olas and Fort Lauderdale Beach boulevards. The usual cast of musclebound macho men will be assembled there, most with his twin pit bull or boxer at his side. Anything to heighten their masculinity in the eyes of the freshly enhanced females nearby -- you know, the ones who just don't realize that they've been putting oil on their thong-exposed buttocks for the past 15 minutes. If you're going to show up at this corner, you'd better have something that defines you, lets people know who you are. Perhaps an eight-foot boa constrictor around the neck; that's always an attention-getter. Or you could be like the two fully padded guys in kickboxing gear who hold impromptu sparring exhibitions there. You'll probably see kids kicking a hackey sack around and at least one or two people playing music for passersby. From this vantage point, you can also watch the people who watch -- like the guy with the map in his hand and fanny pack on, pointing his camera toward the sand. Last but not least, it's always great fun to see spring breakers stumbling to keep their pants up and their food down.
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