Got a death wish, with no Charles Bronson in sight? No problemo. Just take an unwary stroll through the tourist mecca of West Palm Beach. Among its other attractions, the area north of Okeechobee Boulevard boasts the highest concentration of murders anywhere in Broward or Palm Beach counties. Seventeen people met violent ends there in 2001; the total for all of West Palm Beach is just two higher. But, hey, that's down from 24 citywide in 2000. A section of Fort Lauderdale is a close runner-up for 2001, with 15 homicides in the area north of the New River and west of Federal Highway.

Got a death wish, with no Charles Bronson in sight? No problemo. Just take an unwary stroll through the tourist mecca of West Palm Beach. Among its other attractions, the area north of Okeechobee Boulevard boasts the highest concentration of murders anywhere in Broward or Palm Beach counties. Seventeen people met violent ends there in 2001; the total for all of West Palm Beach is just two higher. But, hey, that's down from 24 citywide in 2000. A section of Fort Lauderdale is a close runner-up for 2001, with 15 homicides in the area north of the New River and west of Federal Highway.

Observe canine near ocean: head aloft, nose sniffing air, body in full alert. With our much inferior olfactory capabilities, we cannot know the rich text that a dog reads when it gets near the beach. A German shepherd has some 225 million sensory receptors with which to decode scent in its nose, whereas we have only about 5 million. So while we might catch a whiff of suntan lotion, the dog can detect clumps of seaweed at the shoreline, bits of sandwich tossed in the sand, dead fish a mile away, salt sprayed into the air when a wave crashes. Dogs live for smell. How sad it is, then, that most beaches bristle with signs featuring a big X with the outline of a canine. But not all. Here's a little secret: There is one place where dogs are legal on the beach. And they don't have to be tethered to a leash if under voice control. For the past eight years, the Friends of Jupiter Beach have labored to make sure a two-mile stretch of Jupiter Beach remains open to dogs. They provide 250,000 doggie bags yearly to pick up poop. (Look for doggie-bag stations at beach accesses.) They do monthly beach cleanups. They patrol the beach for infractions. All the Friends ask is that you bring only dogs who are friendly to both humans and canines, that you not allow your dog to bother other beachgoers, and that you clean up after your pooch. Follow those commonsensical rules and your dog can romp in the Atlantic, roll in a pile of seaweed, sniff the shoreline, or happily chase and retrieve a Frisbee.

Observe canine near ocean: head aloft, nose sniffing air, body in full alert. With our much inferior olfactory capabilities, we cannot know the rich text that a dog reads when it gets near the beach. A German shepherd has some 225 million sensory receptors with which to decode scent in its nose, whereas we have only about 5 million. So while we might catch a whiff of suntan lotion, the dog can detect clumps of seaweed at the shoreline, bits of sandwich tossed in the sand, dead fish a mile away, salt sprayed into the air when a wave crashes. Dogs live for smell. How sad it is, then, that most beaches bristle with signs featuring a big X with the outline of a canine. But not all. Here's a little secret: There is one place where dogs are legal on the beach. And they don't have to be tethered to a leash if under voice control. For the past eight years, the Friends of Jupiter Beach have labored to make sure a two-mile stretch of Jupiter Beach remains open to dogs. They provide 250,000 doggie bags yearly to pick up poop. (Look for doggie-bag stations at beach accesses.) They do monthly beach cleanups. They patrol the beach for infractions. All the Friends ask is that you bring only dogs who are friendly to both humans and canines, that you not allow your dog to bother other beachgoers, and that you clean up after your pooch. Follow those commonsensical rules and your dog can romp in the Atlantic, roll in a pile of seaweed, sniff the shoreline, or happily chase and retrieve a Frisbee.

The boys of Custom Bikes are modifying Harleys in this building's first floor, but if you're heading either west or east on Sunrise, take a gander upward for an architectural flourish that would do James Bond proud: The second-floor windows are shaped in a perfect 007. Say, are those rocket launchers and ejector seats on those hogs?

The boys of Custom Bikes are modifying Harleys in this building's first floor, but if you're heading either west or east on Sunrise, take a gander upward for an architectural flourish that would do James Bond proud: The second-floor windows are shaped in a perfect 007. Say, are those rocket launchers and ejector seats on those hogs?

The long-ago kings of Siam dealt with overmighty subjects by presenting them with rare white elephants from the royal stables, animals sacred in Buddhist tradition. Bestowal of such a remarkable creature was an honor all but impossible to refuse, but proper upkeep for a pale pachyderm was a beastly expense that shortly reduced the richest vassal to humble circumstances. South Florida's civic solons are reliving this legend during the interminable squabble over the International Swimming Hall of Fame, now located in Fort Lauderdale but angling for hipper digs. Pushed by development king Michael Swerdlow, Fort Lauderdale, Hollywood, and Pompano Beach have all made perfunctory trumpeting noises in the past year about what an honor it would be to house the hall's tacky museum, but no one wants to cough up millions for a more imposing edifice.

The long-ago kings of Siam dealt with overmighty subjects by presenting them with rare white elephants from the royal stables, animals sacred in Buddhist tradition. Bestowal of such a remarkable creature was an honor all but impossible to refuse, but proper upkeep for a pale pachyderm was a beastly expense that shortly reduced the richest vassal to humble circumstances. South Florida's civic solons are reliving this legend during the interminable squabble over the International Swimming Hall of Fame, now located in Fort Lauderdale but angling for hipper digs. Pushed by development king Michael Swerdlow, Fort Lauderdale, Hollywood, and Pompano Beach have all made perfunctory trumpeting noises in the past year about what an honor it would be to house the hall's tacky museum, but no one wants to cough up millions for a more imposing edifice.

Like the Bahamas, or Cuba before Castro decided he wanted to run the place into the ground, Key West is one of those surreal locations that seems just to be waiting for you to show up and spend your money. But if you're going to make the road trip all the way down there -- a journey for which you should definitely rent a convertible if you don't already own one -- you should have the right roof over your head. Do not stay at any of those massive resort hotels, so far removed from downtown, where all the action is. Bed-and-breakfast Eden House is within easy walking distance of Duval Street, the main thoroughfare, and it beats the holy hell out of the resorts, both in atmosphere and price. At the busiest point in the season, around mid-March, it's $110 per night for a bedroom and bathroom and up to $350 for the bottom half of the Conch House, which includes kitchen and private Jacuzzi and comfortably sleeps four. In the dog days of summer, rates drop to $70 to $265. And each room is its own little world, hidden away from other rooms by a jungle of vines, trees, and ferns. When you're lying amid this flora, sipping a fruity drink, you'll know you've finally reached paradise.

Like the Bahamas, or Cuba before Castro decided he wanted to run the place into the ground, Key West is one of those surreal locations that seems just to be waiting for you to show up and spend your money. But if you're going to make the road trip all the way down there -- a journey for which you should definitely rent a convertible if you don't already own one -- you should have the right roof over your head. Do not stay at any of those massive resort hotels, so far removed from downtown, where all the action is. Bed-and-breakfast Eden House is within easy walking distance of Duval Street, the main thoroughfare, and it beats the holy hell out of the resorts, both in atmosphere and price. At the busiest point in the season, around mid-March, it's $110 per night for a bedroom and bathroom and up to $350 for the bottom half of the Conch House, which includes kitchen and private Jacuzzi and comfortably sleeps four. In the dog days of summer, rates drop to $70 to $265. And each room is its own little world, hidden away from other rooms by a jungle of vines, trees, and ferns. When you're lying amid this flora, sipping a fruity drink, you'll know you've finally reached paradise.