Bars & Clubs

Release makes no bones about the fact that most people are jonesin' for hip-hop and house. So this Clematis monster club split its 8,000-square-foot interior right down the line. And a fun-loving 20- and-30-ish crowd takes the bait. The blue room's DJs are on the ball throwing popular hip-hop and R&B hits that keep the crowd moving. The red room, where house rules, has hosted such illustrious DJs as Gabriel Fain, Ivano Bellini, and Edgar V. There is also a lounge where you can escape the pounding beats to drink and chat. Plenty of seating throughout makes this the kind of venue where you can dance your ass off, chill to recover, and then hit the floor again and again. Drink prices run from an affordable $5 to $8, and bottle service is in the $200 range.

Fort Lauderdale finally got its big-time rock venue last year. Revolution does more than hip-hop, dance, and house beats. The Himmarshee club brings big names to town. So far, Snoop Dogg, George Clinton, Slayer, and Mos Def, among others, have graced the stage of the former Edge, Chili Pepper, and Star Bar. On a good night, 3,000 people crowd in. Manager Jackie Bressler, a former Deadhead from (where else?) New Jersey, and her management team (including production manager Jason Bray, head of security Archie Powles, and operations director Shane Berry) have a long-term entry in Fort Lauderdale club life on their hands. At least, we hope so.

Success on the club scene involves risks, Bressler says. It's like her choice of carny amusements. "I was always into the rides," she says. "The scarier and faster, the better." Sounds like a prescription for a club named Revolution.

Dark, loud, smelly, and glorious, the Poor House is everything a real rock 'n' roll bar should be. There's a tangible sense of reckless excess within its smoke-stained walls, a well-lacquered, incidental hipness developed from years of serious drinking and heavy shredding. Think spring break meets the Sunset Strip and you get an idea of the kind of head-banging, shot-taking shenanigans that go down. With a no-cover policy and a roster that ranges from boogie-friendly blues to max-rock bands like AC Cobra and Pandabite, Poor House offers something for everyone every night of the week (as long as you don't mind Third World bathroom conditions). Cheap drinks made stiff by a surprisingly courteous bar staff keep the eardrums relatively numb to the sound system's cranked-past-ten volume, so don't be afraid to get in front of the low stage and make an ass of yourself. This is rock 'n' roll, after all.

There's a hedge between Waxy O' Connor's and the busy 17th Street Causeway that serves to enclose a rollicking outdoor seating section, where pints of Guinness and Bass are consumed by hearty young men and women. Comfortable swinging tables, TV sets tuned to sports channels, and a diverse crowd of well-traveled yacht hands add up to a party for the senses. Inside, the dark-wood bar is considerably more quaint, though equally packed. Expats sit idly at the bar sipping beer, ready to dispense their worldly wisdom. Live rock bands move the throngs of Waxy-ites with upbeat covers. And for those looking for a relaxing night, the nook-like booths that line the wall provide intimate retreats. Happy hour is from 4 to 7 p.m.; that's when drink prices are reduced (though you don't get the usual half price).

Sometimes, all you really need from a bar is comfort, space to move around in, and a jukebox loaded with early '90s rock. The kind of place with free peanuts and a floor to catch the shells. Simple. Sure, it doesn't hurt that the spacious Sauer Apple Saloon balances four nights of live music into the equation, including original local rock on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Throwing love to local musicians is way cool. And that's not all. DJs provide the tunes on Monday nights, when there's an "In the Biz" extended happy hour, and Thursday nights, when ladies get two-for-one martinis and free sangria starting at 9 p.m. By the way, typical cocktails run around $5, and a Budweiser goes for $3.25. Happy hour is two-for-one drinks every day from 4 to 7 p.m., so it's seriously affordable. The daily fare includes quality liquors like Bombay Sapphire gin, Skyy vodka, Bacardi rum, and Jim Beam bourbon. The coolest part is: Happy hour tokens are redeemable any time, and that means good times.

Cucina Dell' Arte has been around for years. Snooty Palm Beachers have stuffed their rich faces full of pasta there since it was a quiet Italian joint on Dixie Highway. Then came the Coniglio family, owners of the raucous and successful E.R. Bradley's. The Coniglios bought Cucina in its new digs on Royal Poinciana Way in April 2003 and appointed the family's next generation, 26-year-old Nicholas Coniglio, owner of the place. The youngster quickly turned Cucina into something else completely. Now Cucina has become the first good reason since, well, ever to make a nighttime journey over to the island. The place is packed on weekend nights with a crowd that has made Cucina perhaps the island's first-ever hangout for us working folk. There's regularly a smattering of the hoi polloi from the mainland mixing with the Palm Beachers in their Easter-egg-colored polos. "We say the crowd is from 21 to 71," says Coniglio, a Palm Beach native and former snowboarding instructor. "And you can get everything from bathing suits to tuxedoes." Coniglio expanded the restaurant's hours, and the place now is regularly packed from opening at 7 a.m. to closing at 3 in the morning. Oh, and that thing poking you in the back while you're on the dance floor? That's the overstuffed wallet of the guy in the tomato-soup-colored blazer.

It's got the posh bistro ambiance, and the bar looks like it was transported from the Sideways set, but don't worry: This place isn't just for wine snobs. The owner, Danish-born Per Jacobsen, makes sure of that. He's a first-rate host who knows his wine and is happy to impart his knowledge and vast selection of vino to all comers, whether they be Miles Raymond (the aficionado played by Paul Giamatti in the aforementioned flick) or Six Pack Joe. And when Per isn't there to guide you, the rest of the staff gives you that rare commodity in South Florida: fine service. As for the goods, well, the markups on the bottles aren't all that bad (you can get a bottle of 1997 Barolo that retails for about $35 for $59). But let's face it, when you're talking about wine bars, you have to be ready to plunk down some dough, especially if you plan to eat (first-rate cuisine) and drink until your soul is good and merry. And Vienna is the place to do that.

Five dollars an hour is the rate for quality pool at this downtown Fort Lauderdale hot spot. The joint has been open only since September, and the equipment has weathered well: cues straighter than the missionary position, balls yet to be pock-chipped with wear. The black felt carrying the huge Jack Daniels logo is so slick and debris-free that your shots feel almost too straight, too true, for bar tables. Rack 'em and crack 'em until late at night, when the striped-shirt hounds come to drool over swishing tail, the tables get covered with black tops, and zaftig, nubile, female bartenders grind atop them. As you take a free shot of liquor from between their bosoms, you may forgive yourself for being a letch instead of a sportsman, for while the billiards tables may be taken, there's always pocket pool.

Anyone with sniper-precise dart-throwing aim can tell you the three requirements needed for a good dart joint: cheap beer, a laid-back crowd, and a jukebox with tunes circa 1996. Jester's, a dark, unpretentious place with wood-paneled walls and leather barstools scuffed and worn with love, meets all three. You won't get any fancy imported beers here, but if 7-Eleven carries it, so does Jester's. The crowd is neighborly and relaxed. And if the jukebox is any indication, Chris Cornell still belts out lyrics for Soundgarden. Best yet, Jester's is open until 4 a.m. every night. Add to that mix a dozen traditional and electronic dart boards and you've got yourself one righteous place to hurl scalpel-sharp objects. The Jester's dart league plays Tuesdays and Thursdays at 8 p.m. Ask for Rosie if you want to compete.

Blondie's is the kind of beachfront establishment where you could do a lot of things: You could meet some lonely out-of-towners looking for a one-night friend, you could strike up a game of pool on one of ten tables, you could even sit down for a long talk with a friend and both get drunk on beer or booze for less than 30 bucks. But, tucked away among the Ms. Pac-Man and the air hockey, a lone Monopoly pinball machine offers something unique. And, as gamers well know, pinball is pretty hard to come by. While you're pumping quarters and flipping nubs at the little metal ball, you might look up at the Monopoly sign and remember friends from days past with whom you played that game. You might recall how much you liked to be the shoe or the thimble, how nice it was to collect $200 as you passed go, or how hard you bilked your friends when they landed on your Park Place with a hotel. Ah, the good old days. Then you can amble back to the bar, crack a cold one, and wonder what they're doing now.

This wood-beamed bar in the lobby of the Yankee Clipper resembles the galley of a large ship. But the sea life that swims past the large window behind the bar is not the kind you'd find at the bottom of the ocean. Not even close. It's people, which is less shocking than, say, finding out that Soylent Green is people. But it's still pretty interesting to watch the human form wriggle in a foreign medium while you suck down one of the bar's daily signature cocktail specials ($5.50), like the Wreck Blue Waters with vodka, blue curacao, triple sec, and sour mix. The Wreck Bar is open daily from 11:30 a.m. to 1:30 a.m. and closes at 2:30 a.m. on Saturdays. Live Jimmy Buffett-style music Thursday through Saturday brings the chill, poolside ambience right over the top.

On the map of gay clubs in the Fort Lauderdale area, Chase is the new dot, but it's a little different. Though the atmosphere has the look of an upscale venue -- with large screens showing dance videos, the standard central bar, and DJs setting up and spinning in the back of the room -- the comfortable couches in the back entice the body to kick back with an almost bohemian flair as the scene swirls around you. And when we say "swirl," we mean Monday night's Brazilian Night Carnaval party with flashes of color, dancing, music, and men all mixed up in a kaleidoscope of party. Located next to Sage French restaurant, it's the perfect place to take drinks after dinner. With weekly specials like Wednesday night's $3 Absolut martinis and In the Biz specials most days of the week, Chase is sure to last.

You can watch a ball game anywhere, and sure, most places have drinks and vittles, but All Stars really knows how to blend. This establishment's two party locations have central bars with the kind of open conversation you'd find in a dive bar mixed with the kind of well-dressed, attractive crowd you'd find in a nightclub. They're creative with the bar food, offering mouth teasers like chicken satay ($6.95), grilled chicken skewers in peanut sauce, and buffalo shrimp ($11.95). Both locations have corners with comfortable couches where you can mingle on the clubs' Wednesday and Friday ladies' nights (women drink free). Saturday night is an all-out dance party. Sundays, it's time to get competitive with Ping-Pong tournaments and free pool all day long. And, oh yeah, the place is loaded with television sets that can be tuned to meet any sports lover's needs.

Hitting the dance floor on a Monday night is a pleasure akin to eating dessert before dinner. It's naughty, and you're not really supposed to do it, but that's part of what makes the weekly party at MIA Lounge so much fun. Yes, only part of a recipe that includes free dinner for women and, of course, the house and trance sounds of resident DJ Edgar V., who opens for Paul Van Dyke when the famous East German DJ drops by. As Monday night progresses, MIA Lounge transforms from a restaurant with a happy hour atmosphere to a full-blown dance club where the crowd, dressed in crisp shirts and short skirts, moves the party to the dance floor upstairs. And that's not all. There's hip-hop in the adjoining Sushi Room.

The lyrics "A singer in a smoky room/A smell of wine and cheap perfume" from Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" offer an appropriate description of what you'll find at the foot of the large stage on a Monday or Tuesday night at Boom nightclub. Long, black curtains frame the wall-sized mirror behind the stage that reflects the fleeting glory of karaoke-obsessed clubgoers. From the gifted to the talent-free, sign up to perform with flair, belting lyrics that are projected on walls around the room. You can sing along if you're so inclined, or you can jump over to the bar for a little drinkie or five -- whatever it takes to get you up on that stage. And what a selection of karaoke ops! You can choose anything from the "Brick House" standard fare to select tunes like Duran Duran's "Girls on Film," 50 Cent's "P.I.M.P," Reba McEntire's "Fancy," and even Radiohead's "Go to Sleep."

Location, location, location. Oh yeah, and a few other things, like live Latin music and $6 mojitos make Samba Room the hot spot in which to unwind after a long day of white-collar work. The restaurant and lounge with inviting patio furniture in the heart of Fort Lauderdale's downtown cuts its already reasonable drink prices in half between 4 and 7 p.m. What that means is Sangria for $2.50, a Melon Drop with Ketel One Citroen Vodka for $3.75, or a Key Lime Margarita with Sauza Gold Tequila and Key West lime juice for $3.75. Wednesday night is "Ladies Night Out," when women drink free from 6 to 7:30 p.m. It's a small window but well worth squeezing into.

Bradley's is kind of like a fraternity house for guys who've been out of college for ten years. The beer still flows, and the hot chicks still stop by. The only difference is that now these former slackers have a few bucks to blow, and blow it they do, on happy-hour specials from 4:30 to 6:30 p.m. each weekday. A complimentary buffet and Intracoastal water views make this a sweet hangout and a prime place to bust out your toga.

Las Olas' popular bar and eatery Big City Tavern is a moody establishment where it's engaging to sip a cocktail and mingle. But as the night wears on, even though you've made new friends, your stomach starts to scream for nourishment. Not to worry, Big City Tavern offers up the likes of spinach salad with grilled chicken, warm bacon vinaigrette, Gruyère, red potatoes, and red onion for $11.50. If that doesn't hit the spot, try grilled chicken, bamboo skewered, with salsa and tortilla chips for $8.95. Pizza Salsice with sausage, tomato, and mozzarella for $10.95 will stave off the ill effects of your boozing. Or you could go for just the plain old Big City Burger with fries and cole slaw for $9.95. Once you've recollected your senses, you have the option of heightening them with the Tavern Chocolate Cake served with whipped cream, créme anglaise, and fresh fruit for $7.

Some guy named Sonny -- who's rockin' a silver pompadour -- owns and runs this honky-tonk joint. It has old country songs on the jukebox, including tunes from Sonny's old band (which used to open for Patsy Cline and Rod Stewart). They have a guard rail along the dance floor in case the line dancers get too outta hand, and they're starting to book rock shows once a month. They don't carry draft beer, but a bottle of Bud is a fair $2.75. If you're real nice to Sonny, you can keep that bottle cold by borrowing one of the koozies he keeps under the bar.

No, not that kind of head, wishful reader. We're talking suds, hops, brew, ale, lager, the nectar of life. But as for that other kind, Sofa Kings isn't the worst place to dream of it. It's a place where testosterone is free to roam and a man can, for one shining moment, still be a man. This place is a fantasy come true for every dirty, boorish, superior, lecherous, sports-watching man. The Everyman, as it were. Picture it: You sit on a big leather sofa, watch your favorite team on about 50 televisions, drink three-dollar drafts to your heart's content, play pool, and, oh yeah, watch young women in short, plaid, Catholic-school-girl skirts shake their moneymakers in your face. And when they aren't dancing for you, they might just start grinding it with each other. This isn't a bar; it's freakin' nirvana, working-class style. But if you're looking for a real good time, fuhgeddaboudit. As the owners of the place describe it, Sofa Kings is R-rated, not Triple X. After a lot of beer, a good game, and a few dollars placed in willing G-strings, the Everyman may be ready for a little more. It don't happen, folks, but a guy can dream.

A quick three-step guide to first dating: First and foremost, you're going to have to face the fact that you're not getting laid, so just scratch those devious thoughts from your raunchy little mind. Next, if there is any hope, nothing is going to lubricate the gears of love faster then a few adult beverages, so start drinking heavily. And most important, despite what you've been led to believe, you're really not all that interesting -- in fact, you're most likely downright boring. So you're going to need to find an activity that doesn't require you to actually talk. That's what makes Dave and Buster's the perfect place to spend time with someone who's most likely never going to talk to you again. First, you can try their signature drink, the Million Dollar Margarita, which actually costs only $8. After that, dine from a diverse menu that includes dishes like a hearty mesquite peppered rib-eye steak for $18.99 and Huli Huli salmon for $13.48. Then you can head down to the Million Dollar Midway to entertain your date with cutting-edge and classic video games, virtual reality simulators, or one of more than 60 games of skill. Each game costs as much as $2.25, so it can get a little pricey. But that's OK. Who knows what the future holds. The place is open until 2 a.m. Thursday through Saturday, so you'll have plenty of time to work the mojo.

It's a late Tuesday evening, and there's a vague apocalyptic feeling to this place, which hunkers on the edge of the cane fields. It's on the edge of nowhere. It invites disconnection. An over-the-hill cowboy, dressed in white hat, spangled belt and jeans, is massacring a George Jones song at the karaoke machine. He's in full beer-weave, and his voice sounds like he flossed his throat with barbed wire. A winsome blond watches with her man at a nearby table. She slips her hand up the back of his shirt. He does likewise to her. They sip whiskey Cokes with their free hands. It's men's night, as it always is on Tuesdays, which means two-for-one mixed drinks, $1 drafts, and $5 pitchers all night long (maybe you should think about sleeping in the car tonight and avoiding that long, bleary drive home). But then, it's almost always happy hour at Boonies, with the same deal seven days a week from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. And just for good measure, it's ladies' night on Mondays. "We're from the country, and we like it that way," sings a chubby, short guy now at the mic. The drunk cowboy has staggered back to the bar, tweaking the barmaid's bottom along the way. "He stopped lovin' her... today," he croaks. He burps loudly, then fetches a healthy pinch of snuff from his tin. Time stands still.

Two questions: Did you ever wonder about all those freaky old buildings along the New River? Have you ever had the dilemma of trying to figure out what to do when it's Friday night, happy hour is over, and you don't want to go home? Well, there's one answer to both questions, and that's the Ghosts, Mysteries, and Legends Tour, which is right around the corner from Fort Lauderdale's most popular drinking establishments. The well-researched 60- to 90-minute tour leaves from Sixth Avenue and Las Olas near Riverfront and gives you the skinny on the former inhabitants of the Stranahan House and the Cooley Hammock Massacre, among other topics. It's like a field trip for adults, and you're the sloshed class clown who's gonna jump out from behind the bushes to give everyone an extra scare. The tour leaves at 8 p.m. and costs $15 for adults and $10 for children, who should not drink beforehand.

Imagine, if you can, Respectable Street's goth crowd wearing smiles in contrast to black vinyl pants and hair dye. Meanwhile, out on Clematis Street, drunken Rotary Club types join the usual crowd of club kids, frat boys, and rockers while live music blasts from nearly every venue around. What is this -- Halloween? Well, almost. It's MoonFest, the enormous street party held every October in downtown West Palm Beach. Like the evil twin of SunFest, MoonFest transforms the city streets, bars, and clubs into an orgy of alcohol consumption, live bands, carnival rides, and loads of strange behavior. And, of course, Halloween costumes that would make Wes Craven blush: priests getting blowjobs from altar boys, Hawaiian transvestites, prosthetic genitalia, and girls with even skimpier outfits than is probably legal. 2004's celebration even featured a guest "get out the vote" speech by actor Mandy Patinkin of The Princess Bride fame (you remember -- Inigo Montoya, the guy who got stabbed 90 million times). With all that, it's no wonder the city's atmosphere is so upbeat. Well, for one night, at least.

You wouldn't be going on a second date if the first one hadn't gone well. And if you're going on a second, you're probably gunning for a third. And everybody knows that on the third date, you're supposed to have sex. (Oops, you thought that was on the first date?) Before you bump uglies with your new friend, you might want to know that diseases like herpes and genital warts just loooove hitchhiking back and forth along the nookie highway, and they can hop from person to person even when you're using condoms. Broward County has the second-highest number of HIV/AIDS cases in the state, and lately, the local health department has taken to announcing, "Syphilis is back!" Spare yourself future problems by getting checked out for sexually transmitted diseases at one of the Broward Health Department's three STD testing centers. (The Sunrise Health Center has the best hours.) It's a cheap date too: For $15, we got tested for syphilis, HIV, gonorrhea, and chlamydia; saw a superfriendly doctor and three cheery nurses; got a pregnancy test; and walked away with free drugs to treat a urinary tract infection. Why, we scored better schwag than we ever did trick-or-treating! If you think waiting in a windowless room for three hours for treatment is boring, you haven't seen the Condom Lady entertain the crowd by playing a trivia game and showing you how to pinch and unroll a rubber! When she's done, help yourself to as many condoms as you can stuff in your pockets and go back to people-watching (seems there are a lot of regulars in the waiting room). It's good fun, really! And if the so-called person you are dating is too cool, squeamish, humorless, or disrespectful of your health to go through this with you, then he or she is not worth seeing anyway -- fuck 'em! Um, we mean, don't!

According to the dream dictionary on www.hyperdictionary.com, "Dreaming that you meet a person wearing epaulets means unwise attachments that may result in scandal." Hmm... sounds fun! There's something about stripes on a uniform that'll make you ask an otherwise regular guy to dock his boat in your slip! Willing accomplices can be found at any alcohol-dispensing establishment (Blondie's, the Elbo Room, the Treasure Trove, the Quarterdeck) along Fort Lauderdale Beach during Fleet Week (usually in April, so make a note), when a buttload of Navy and Coast Guard ships dock at Port Everglades. Navy flaks will tell you that Fleet Week "showcases the U.S. Navy's might and gives the public a glimpse of their hard-earned tax dollars at work as Navy sailors and their modern hardware and technology meld into one efficient fighting team." It shouldn't be too hard to get your hands on that modern hardware, considering that most of these sailors have been out at sea for months. You need only read a typical posting at www.militarysingles.com to see what's going through most of the enlisted men's minds: "I blew things up, shot things to pieces, called down 500-pound bombs, and managed mass destruction. Please help this fully equipped, clean-cut, above average, all-American boy turn from fighter to lover! I need just the right playmate to take me prisoner, so to speak." Go for it, girls! Support our troops!

There's nothing really groundbreaking about Capone's. Nothing original about its dark wood bar with neon accents, about the cheesy mural that covers one whole wall, or about the regular hot-body contests. But the funny thing about formulas is: They work. The 3-for-1 Happy Hour helps everyone say bye-bye to his or her inhibitions. The mainstream hip-hop and dance tunes get people dancing really close. And the standing invitation for girls to dance on the bar keeps the boys mesmerized down below. Once you've zoned in on a proper target, engage her in a little one-on-one competition at the pool tables in the back. Or sit her down at the martini bar on the side for some intimate conversation. If things get too hot inside, suggest spilling out to the tables on the sidewalk... or maybe all the way back to your pad. As one tomcat put it, "The ratio of girls is really good" -- especially on Wednesdays, when women drink free from 10 p.m. to closing. "They might not be the girls you want to introduce to your mom, but there's really no excuse for going home alone after a night at Capone's."

All right, stop the groaning, guys. You didn't really think you were going to find a brainy chick at that bimbo joint on the beach, did you? No, if you want to meet a woman who has more on her mind than her body, you have to seek out repositories of knowledge. Hence, the library's Center for the Book, which was established in 1984 as the first affiliate of the Center for the Book in the Library of Congress. Relax. This can be a fun way to meet the ladies. The center has held a wide variety of get-togethers throughout the county during the past year, among them: "The Gastronomical You Writing Workshop," which turned "culinary history into art"; evenings with mystery writer Elaine Viets and maritime author Robert N. Macomber; presentations of the films Tortilla Soup, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and Fried Green Tomatoes; and other author readings. Most events are free.

When stalking the concrete jungle for signs of intelligent male life, it is essential to arm yourself with the knowledge that smart men have patterns. To start with, the IQ-blessed have interests. An easy way to weed out the masses is to start at a place like O'Hara's, where live jazz, dance, and classic rock bands play seven nights a week. Smart men have opinions and a gene that makes them love jazz. But don't let the hissing high-hat fool you. A love of classic rock is critical. Scope the scene when the oft-lauded cover band Breeze plays, because if the man sitting across the room with bourbon on ice and a cigar is into Zeppelin and Pink Floyd, chances are good that he's nostalgic about his tripped-out college days, when he managed to get a hefty dose of surrealism and all of his term papers in on time. Finally, smart men enjoy company but spurn crowds. The headcount inside and out in this bar is just right for bumping into interesting people without getting squished.

This Himmarshee Irish joint has a veritable all-star crew of Guinness-slinging barkeeps -- Mike, Tommy, Noel, you know who you are -- but the most charismatic cat here is the man with the perpetual 10 o'clock shadow and a voice like a carnival barker. He succeeds in chatting shit, drawing drafts, tending change, and mixing martinis with calm aplomb. "You're a prude!" he yells at one familiar female patron whom he learned hitched a ride home from a male friend, then didn't so much as invite him inside. "Your problem is, you don't put out!" (It's less obnoxious in context.) Soon after, when a couple approaches his buzzing bar, he cocks his head and says, "Ketel One martini and a Miller Lite, right?" Yup. These feats are nothing spectacular, perhaps, but then, it's the rare bartender who on a weekday night, through sheer force of personality, inspires a crowd to sing his name to the tune of that "olé" soccer anthem: "Oh DAAAVE, oh DAVE oh DAVE oh DAAAVE! Oh DAAAVE! O-oh DAAAAVE!" The barkeep responds by honking the siren of the model fire truck that hangs above his bar. The lushes reply with further song. This, friends, is why you drink.

You know what you want in a margarita. We'll wager it has nothing to do with flavoring from some rare tropical fruit you can find only on the western shore of Tobago or with weird food coloring (like, ugh, Kelly green on St. Patrick's Day). You want a drink that will cool you down and give you a pleasant buzz, as if the furniture movers in your head finally straightened out the jumble up there. One sip and an ocean breeze is coming through the window and the party is getting under way. That's why you want to get to Yucatan. Their margaritas soften all those sharp tequila corners with Cointreau, Grand Marnier, and the restaurant's own sweet-and-sour mix. Our favorite is the restaurant's namesake, the Yucatan, which is loaded with Sauza Tres Generaciones, an añejo tequila ($6.50). There's also the Golden Margarita with Sauza Comemorativo ($6) and Yucatan's Original Margarita ($5.50). All are available at two-for-one during happy hour, 5 to 7 p.m. Bring a designated driver.

The yuppies sip mojitos and watch waves crash over at JB's on the Beach while listening to a nonauthentic "reggae" band play Lionel Richie covers, but those in the know walk their flip-flops across A1A to Kahuna's. The laid-back bartenders slide bottles across the bar past the bamboo walls and under the surfboards hanging from the ceiling. Girls squeeze into one of the booths while boys talk shit around the only pool table. You got your exquisite wasabi grouper ($12.95), you got your frozen daiquiri ($5.50) from the wall of daiquiri machines, you got some outdoor tables, and you got your singer-songwriters rocking most nights of the week (shoutout to Brian & Mike, who pack the place on Tuesdays). What else do you need?

When new customers start to become regulars, Candy Mansfield has an unabashed way of remembering their names. She'll scrawl them on cocktail napkins, complete with short descriptions of what they drink and how they spend time in the bar. "You're Jerry's wife, right?" she asked a blond patron recently while referencing one of her napkin notes. "He drinks Sam Adams and plays pinball." Mansfield says she does it not because bartending at the rough-around-the-edges Coasters is her business but because it's her social life. "This is my Friday and Saturday night out. This is where I party," she says. The chronically friendly 52-year-old Mansfield grew up with bartending in the blood; her parents owned a bar in Illinois. She worked as a court clerk before taking the job pouring pitchers at Coasters three years ago. Her tips are helping to put a daughter through medical school, something that endears her to the Palm Beach Atlantic University kids who frequent Coasters. Aside from the cocktail napkin trick, Mansfield does something else pretty damned nice for regulars. If they request bottled beer enough, she'll order a keg of it. Now that's service.

You know the Bloody Mary drill. Sunday brunch. Hair of the dog. Tomato juice, vodka, spices, and a stalk of celery. You also know that, at a place with Mary in its name, they're going to take special measures to juice the thing up, to make it their own. At Hamburger Mary's, la cosa nostra comes supercharged, with the rim of the glass dipped in peppery red stuff. The vodka is Absolut. The spices are black and white pepper, Worcestershire sauce, clam juice, lemon juice, celery, lime and lemon wedges, and an olive, and it'll fire up your engines like the start of a NASCAR rumble. If you're around on the alleged Day of Rest, there's an all-day "Sunday: Bloody Sunday" policy, which means Bloody Marys are $3 a pop.

The first time the foot falls inside the Field, you get the feeling of having entered a large, 100-year-old Irish house. Once you drop a Guinness, Bass, or Strongbow Irish Cider down the neck, you begin to feel the warm effects of the dark wood and dim-lit interior. From the massive, deep barrel booth in the back to the brick fireplace in the center of the room, the bar creates an atmosphere that transports you to a wee little land across the sea. The spell is complete when the Celtic Bridge Irish Band strikes up on Friday and Saturday nights. As for modern fun, Hot Rod, the local Rod Stewart impersonator, takes the stage every Wednesday at 8 p.m. The pub prepares the belly for floods of Harp with an extensive menu that includes Donegal mussels ($9.95), the Kilkenny sandwich ($7.95), and shepherd's pie ($8.95). Seating is provided indoors and out, where tobacco fiends can lean back in a swinging table and light up a smoke.

Precocious youth perhaps won us over, but to be fair, this 19-year-old Fort Lauderdale native's got the skills to back it up. In just two years, Matt Cash has graduated from the back rooms of Broward Brit pubs to wowing hipsters ten years his senior at mainstay Miami nightspots like Poplife and the District. There are those half-assed, pseudo DJs who are content to rely on auto-cues and cross faders, but Cash's sets are on-the-fly mash-up mixes that splice Moving Units into Weezer into Trick Daddy, recalling the likes of 2ManyDJs. While Miami's Design District is where Cash calls home these days, the lad has left his mark with the 18-to-25 demographic in Lauderdale after various residencies, including Crush and Deck. If you see him, ask him for his new mix and you'll know what we're talking about.

Self-deprecation is a dying art. And so, any strip joint with the wit and chutzpah to make fun of the Mobbed-up reputation of titty bars deserves a nod. Even better is the fact that Bada Bing, one of the newest additions to South Florida's T&A scene, deserves the recognition. A classy place near Dixie Highway, Bada Bing prides itself on breaking the strip-club mold: The girls are not only pretty but friendly, the disc jockey's one-liners are actually funny, and the drinks aren't watered down. Best yet, the drink specials are as follows: $15 open bar for premium drinks Sunday through Thursday from 8 to 11 p.m. And 2 for 1 drinks seven days until 8 p.m.

As many Gen-Y kids grow bored with the stuffy, hectic, downtown Liquordale scene, they now gravitate to neighborhood pubs to clink mugs and dance with like-minded music geeks. In the past year, Crush has grown from a whispered-about Thursday night to arguably the week's preeminent outlet for DJ-led decadence. With its third -- and hopefully final -- venue change to Lauderhill's Rose & Crown, the 18-plus fete now lasts until 4 a.m., with indoor and outdoor DJs hustling everything from three-chord rowdiness to electrobeats. Though its attendees are fairly diverse, Crush tends to draw a younger crowd due to its lenient age limits and cheap cover. While Maguire's Sunday Night Boogie is hotly nipping on its heels, Crush continues to reel in both the nubile faction ready to shake it and the jaded scenesters who pretend they're only there for the drink specials.

Almost as new as the year itself, Gryphon nightclub has redirected late-night, Miami-bound traffic to the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel & Casino. The large dance club with a sunken dance floor and comfortable seating all around offers an environment where you can take in the company of the upbeat, sassy crowd that's drawn by resident DJs who include Friday night's Ivano Bellini and Southside and Saturday night's nextgeneration. Miami promotion company Aqua Booty's monthly mix-in of DJs like Osunlade and Neil Aline sharpens the edge. Kitschily clad dancers on blocks around the floor lead partiers in all the right moves. Between paying the cover and covering your bar tab, one night of partying can easily cost $100. For big spenders, there's the VIP room with large, double-sided couches that can accommodate your whole party. This select room is Broward's hottest place to see and be seen.

The Village Pump has one hell of a story. Opened in Lauderdale-by-the-Sea in 1949, 15 years before the Commercial Boulevard bridge connected the barrier island to the mainland, the pub built a reputation as a place where locals and tourists alike could sit back, drink a beer, and converse like neighbors. Even after a half-century of development, the Village Pump is in many ways the same: a laid-back bar with good service, friendly patrons, and reasonably priced pints (about $4 each). What's more, you can still hear the gentle crashing of the Atlantic Ocean, just as you could in 1949. The pub recently opened a stylish restaurant next door, the Village Grille, but thankfully, the Village Pump remains as relaxing and enticing as ever.

Listen up, rage-aholics. You can guzzle a sixer of Red Bull and go flail your woman across a disco dance floor like every other trendoid or you can break away from the pack and show some class. Here's the trick: ballroom dancing. Slow down, smooth out, show a mastery of this stuff and you'll wow her socks off (and potentially other garments as well). If you're really looking to slow-dance, you have to go where the slow folks go. Since 1992, the only rule for Tuesdays at the theater is that "everybody dances." So reads the website for the Hollywood Bandshell, where every Tuesday from 7:30 to 9:30 p.m., you can get jiggy to vintage dance music. The year-round Dancing in the Moonlight series features big band and swing groups like Bobby Kent and the Esquires and the Swell Tones, along with occasional salsa, merengue, and cha cha. The open-air, beachside bandshell is the only venue of its kind in Broward. And if you've never been swung under the stars, you have no idea how moving so slow can get your pulse beating so fast.

Best Place for a Sidecar of Blues Bamboo Room

It's no easy feat for a concert venue to come across as sophisticated and downhome at the same time, but Lake Worth's Bamboo Room pulls off the combination with classic Florida charm. Over the past six years, the Bamboo Room has established itself as one of the most professional and welcoming rooms in the Southland -- an opinion shared by patrons and musicians alike. Along with its stellar roster of entertainment -- which goes way beyond standard blues to funk, experimental, acoustic, and folk -- the Bamboo has one of the most extensive beer and liquor selections in the county. Check out the towering collection of classic martini shakers behind the bar -- there's probably one for each of the 100 cocktails on the bar menu. Drink specials change weekly. Order a cocktail from the friendly wait staff, sit back, and appreciate the work owner Russell Hibbard has put into his bamboo-clad baby. If the blues is a cozy blanket, the Bamboo Room is the comfy bed it keeps warm.

As long as Hollywood doesn't roll back the hours of operation for downtown clubs, house band Exito will continue to bring in feverishly dancing crowds each and every night until 4 a.m. And we're talking crowds as in crowded -- unlike Zombie, the space's former occupant, Spice is anything but comatose. Especially on weekends, when the room threatens to ignite turbo-thrusters and blast off into outer space. Owner Artie Batista has decorated the, uh, resto-lounge with a dimly lighted, romantic flair that could get the place mistaken for the set of a lingerie or perfume commercial. The VIP lounge is pretty unnecessary (this ain't South Beach), though it's more affordable than its hipper counterparts. But you don't need to be a VIP to grab a mojito and stare at the delectable assortment of gorgeous Latina hotties in flattering eveningwear. After all, everyone else is doing it.

Though Miami practically dictates the electronic scene with labels like Schematic and acts like Phoenicia and Push Button Objects, Fort Lauderdale now has a more diversified imprint to level the playing field. Audio Thrift Shop Records, the brainchild of Broward native Jasper Delaini, echoes the eclectic tastes and leftfield impetus of its founder. A pop culture-fed b-boy indebted to Sonic Youth as much as Stetasonic, the 24-year-old Delaini has put together a roster that veers from the alt hip-hop of his own Secondhand Outfit to Hoor Paar Kraat, artist Anthony Mangicapra's noise collage project. With recent signings like punk stylists the Leftoverz, along with the new showcase night Rock Bottom at the Fort Lauderdale Saloon, Audio Thrift Shop continues to indulge Delaini's freeform ways while proving his artistic aptitude. Keep up the dirty work, Jasper.

So the WASPY fastidiousness of Palm Beach doesn't exactly add up to a Wonderland for your down-the-rabbit-hole psychedelic adventures. That just makes the Peace Tree all the trippier. Situated behind the Sea Gull Cottage -- Palm Beach's oldest house, built in 1886 -- just south of the Flagler Museum, the Peace Tree stretches to 50 feet overhead, shading the Lake Trail and the nearby shores of the Intracoastal. One look at the funky foliage will send herbally stimulated heads spinning: bulbous, sinewy, and surreally shaped, it looks as if it might've dropped from a passing meteor and landed where it stands with a gushy splat. Or it could've erupted from the earth like a pulpy volcano, freezing in this alien-tentacled formation over the course of a zillion years. Either way, the tree is really big and very, very weird. (For the record, it's called a kapok tree, and it's at least 115 years old.) Take a seat on the bench beneath its undulating branches, gaze out over the water, make sure no PBPD are nearby, and get peaceful. And pass that shit this way, bro.

You gotta love a bar that has a "Banshee Room." Brogue's not only has one but uses it to host private parties as well as community functions like mayoral debates. Brogue's is the place you go, sunburnt and happy, on the way back from the beach to kill a drunken afternoon. It's the place you go because your friend's band is playing its third gig ever in the window. It's the place you hit when you crave a hearty shepherd's pie or just want to meet your buddies, sit at an outside table, and shoot the breeze on a balmy night. The clean, high-ceilinged, wood-paneled drinking establishment starts showing international soccer games at 9:30 a.m. Sundays and serves a mean pint ($4 for a Guinness before 7 p.m., $5.25 after) any time. There's no cover and no need to explain how to get here -- just look for the crowd spilling out onto Lake Worth's main drag.

Posh Lounge is a full-service liquor and wine bar that sits in the lobby of the Waverly building. The Charlie Chaplin Martini, like some of its other signature cocktails, is named after the dog of one of the residents. The tall glass holds part Stoli Razberri vodka, part Godiva White, and part Chambord, with a splash of cream. The light-pink concoction looks like a thin milkshake. But beware. It clouds your senses with each delicate sip. This heady sensation whets the appetite for fun, which could lead you to puff a hookah at a table near the bar or relax outdoors, where the barkeeps sometimes light a fire. Chaplin costs $13.

You need a place where everybody knows your name... and they say it in an endearing British accent. This cozy pub draws a random crowd of old Brits, indie rockers, surfers, and dirty athletes who just finished playing rugby. Got an obscure beer you love? The friendly staff will order it for ya. (They sell only one domestic -- a $2 Imperial; imports cost $3.85 for a 20-ounce draft.) Got a CD you want to hear? They'll put it on. Got a dog? He can come with you and hang at the outside table. Marty Crompton, the landlady (that's a female-connotated term for proprietor) chose the Lion & Eagle as mascots to represent the U.K. and the U.S. Last month, she was inviting everybody she talked to during a road trip to Cape Canaveral to watch the space shuttle launch to visit the Lion & Eagle and celebrate her birthday. She is careful to point out, "It's not a bar. It's a pub. That's an abbreviation for public house -- and I'm opening my house to you."