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Before smokers became second-class citizens, cigarette equaled sophisticate. Fitzy's Lounge returns dignity to tobacco lovers with an industrial-chic décor (check out the illuminated, 47-foot arced bar) and a cigar list that starts at $8 and ends at $100. Owners John and Marit Fitzpatrick understand a good pairing, and that's why they offer a selection of blended and single-malt scotches to set off a chocolaty figurado or silky robusto. Likewise, they offer a twist on the classic coffee-and-cigarette combo with their Fitzy's Fuel martini, made with four potent shots of espresso, chocolate vodka, and Bailey's. On Tuesdays, a jazz quartet plays for no cover or drink minimum — although you may still want some champagne to go with your smokes. It's a great combination, and Fitzy's claims to sell more bubbly than any other Delray establishment.
This ain't ugly: no cover charge, and last call at 5 a.m. The party rages until closing time with cover bands Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, and everyone is just drunk enough not to notice that your dancing was once compared to an epileptic seizure. Knowing that late-night revelry also means early-morning appetite, this West Delray sports bar offers a full menu from 11 a.m. until 4 a.m., with Philly cheese steak, wings, and pizza among the selections. If real food cuts too far into your beer budget, you can grab a cheap snack from the vending machine. And don't worry about being low on smokes, because the Mug's got a machine for that too. There are also a half-dozen TVs, a couple of pool tables, and a dartboard. And because this sports bar doubles as a package store, you can get booze to go and keep the party going until the break of dawn.
Club Voodoo casts its spell on the ladies on Wednesdays, luring them with the magic words Free drinks! and having hard-bodied hunks serve them. With three clubs in one, Voodoo gives the chicas the seductive power of choice: rock in bordello-chic Rodman's Rehab, bust old-school moves in ultrawhite Envy, or work it to techno beats in the trippy main club. And for those ladies who thrive on attention, there's even a large stage for them to strut their stuff like a pro. Voodoo keeps them lubricated from 10 p.m. to 4 a.m., so your odds never looked better on hump day.
Maybe it's all that manly, dark wood or the robust beers on tap, but for some reason, it's always a sausage fest at Brogues Irish Pub. Maybe it's just that the pub knows that the way to men's hearts is through a full menu of Irish favorites served until 11 every night and bar munchies served until 1 a.m. on the weekends. Ladies, you may have trouble getting any attention if you venture out during a soccer competition. Better to come after the game, when all that testosterone can be redirected toward a potential mate. With regular live entertainment in the main room and terrific local bands — like El and Truckstop Coffee — in the back "Banshee" room, there's always something going on that keeps the crowd circulating and prevents it from becoming just a stale set of Lake Worth regulars.
Smart men in South Florida do exist, but they're not where you'd expect them to be — say, at the local Mensa meeting. That's because the regular Mensa meetings in Palm Beach and Broward counties are at the Bennigans just off Cypress Creek Road. Bennigans? Even a Chili's would be an improvement. Whatever. Here's where you can meet men smart enough not to settle for chain restaurants: Hollywood Vine. It's a smart wine shop featuring well-attended winetastings every Tuesday evening from 6 to 8. When they opened the shop last year, owners Luciano Armellino and Steven Kracow set out to create a sophisticated space of granite and mahogany where you can "unwind, enjoy, sample, savor, and socialize." So wander around the shelves containing up to 600 varieties of vino from around the world. Try one of the ever-changing varieties offered daily, ranging from $3 to $20 a glass, relax at one of the tables outside, or perch on a barstool in the back of the shop. You'll still be able to see who's walking down Harrison Street through the storefront glass. If you find a bottle you like and don't want to take it back home to share with the cat, crack it open there and wait for your social life to bloom.
Do you come here often? I see you've moved beyond primary-level stretches and on to modified secondary; it really shows in your lotus. I have always fancied myself more of a Bikram yoga kind of guy, but when I see you glide into the plow, my body temperature jumps to 105. A little earlier I was rubbing some tiger balm on my muscles — they're very sore because I work out so much — and I couldn't help but notice that deep in your yoga bag is a copy of Essential Rumi; yeah, as far as medieval Persian philosophers go, he's one of my favorites too. I see that you're busy meditating right now — good work by the way, it looks like you're really in touch with your core. Maybe when you're done ensnaring your power animal, we could go out for some carrot sticks and ginger root and, you know, just shoot the shit about asanas, discuss the finer points of sublimation, and then go back to my place and, you know, adjust each other.
In 1961, Vincent Capone owned the Flicker-lite Lounge on Grand Avenue in Chicago. Dreaming of warmer climes, he headed south to a sleepy town called Hollywood, where there was only one restaurant on the beach. Capone opened the second. His wife, Joan, did the cooking, and when they added Chicago-style pizza to the menu, a local institution was born. The Capone family still runs the place, which added waterfront dining in 1980, and some of the bartenders have been around since that decade. Another expansion in 1994 didn't mess with the local flavor. The barstools are still well-worn, the meatballs are still homemade, and every Bears game is still watched religiously. So Green Bay Packers fans may want to stay away on NFL Sundays.
It's the best neighborhood bar in Fort Lauderdale, but it feels like the best neighborhood bar in Johannesburg, South Africa. For 40 years, thirsty patrons have found a home in the Kalahari's cool interior, decorated with zebra pelts, old-man chairs, a mock fireplace, a pool table, antique photos and maps, and a bookshelf. To step inside is to join the secret club that watches rugby, can turn a phrase or two in Afrikaans, and knows a warthog from a wildebeest. To participate in Saturday karaoke or occasional "Bring and Braai" barbeques is to have a really "lekker jol" (nice time). Sadly, current proprietors Hal and Dee Hofmeyr are retiring — Hal's turning 80 — so the bar is up for sale. But we have faith that the trusty bartenders — all of whom have been there for five years or more — will keep the place intact. After all, the family that drinks Springbok cocktails together, stays together.
In the wee hours of a recent Wednesday, an unlikely couple entered the Chit Chat Lounge. One tall white kid and what appeared to be a teeny-tiny but very-butch black lesbian spied a few regulars lazily throwing darts in a corner and a dressed-down man and woman at one end of Chit Chat's worn-but-gleaming bar, speaking and laughing softly in a non-specific Southern accent. It was an unpretentious crowd, not at all rambunctious and remarkably good-natured for 1 a.m. The bar, which had been standing for about 60 years, was filled with pictures of a pretty blond lady named Sherry, the proprietor for the last 16 years; that's just about how long George, the gent tending bar at that weird hour, had been working there. There were no musicians on Chit Chat's little stage, so George was slowly feeding dollars into the digital jukebox in between pours. The teeny-tiny but very-butch black lesbian let out a whoop of delight as she recognized Teddy Pendergrass' welterweight soul croon, exclaiming, "That's my favorite goddamned song!" Smiling, George proceeded to program a solid half-hour of Pendergrass into the machine, while somehow keeping everybody's glass full and carrying on conversations with all patrons simultaneously across the great expanse of Chit Chat's wide, dark-wood floor. He never even raised his voice. The easy congeniality of the evening was not a fluke. This is a place where quiet nights cuddle side-by-side with big events — NASCAR, blues, open jams on Wednesday with the Joe Friday band, karaoke Thursdays.
The fact that it's been a bar since 1953 makes the Sail Inn Tavern a historic neighborhood bar. The boat on its roof and its staunchly loyal locals make it an institution. The place is so beloved, the bartenders come up through the ranks after many years as regulars. Decorated with salvaged nautical elements such as portholes, ocean maps and boat ropes, and personal memorabilia from the bar "family," the place is both kitschy and homey. With just one pool table and a few TVs, the real entertainment comes from the characters: bikers, golf and tennis pros, writers, tattooed bad asses, loudmouthed lesbians, metal heads, meatheads, and the late-night party set. With the best Jäger bombs ever, don't plan on getting tanked and sleeping it off on site. The Sail Inn doesn't actually offer lodging, but the name is a convenient setup for its motto: "Sail Inn, stumble out!"

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