BEST HAPPY HOUR 2004 | Gordon Biersch Brewery Restaurant | Best Restaurants, Bars, Clubs, Music and Stores in Miami | Miami New Times
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Admittedly there are wittier and more attractive crowds than the corporate types gathered at Gordon Biersch during its festive happy hour, which kicks off every day (except the already popular Friday) at 5:00 p.m. But fun's the point (it's called "happy" for a reason), and there's great fun to be had sipping a cold brew after the paycheck grind as a horde of suits romp around a Brickell Avenue, oak-paneled brewery/restaurant with the carelessness and glee of unsupervised children. Accountants, lawyers, and other executive types tend to have the social skills of your average turtle -- which increases the entertainment value in watching the action at the bar, where the need for another drink and the guzzling of entire mugs of beer result in a kinetic energy and loosening of ties. For these people the ability to relate to other human beings (especially those of the opposite sex) in an engaging way requires copious amounts of alcohol. And with a sweeping selection of beer and skilled bartenders able to whip up any cocktail ever invented, Gordon Biersch is the perfect place for them to get sauced. And for you to enjoy the show.

Located in one of the oldest booze buildings in South Beach (the old Diamond Bar spot), Felt has moved forward to become a favorite hang for cats far too cool to tangle with the trendoid mobs of posers filling neonland. Ten eight-and-a-half-foot blue felt tables crowd the joint while a DJ spins an eclectic mix of Eighties rock, hip-hop, and, on rare occasions, some dance. Felt's top shark, Fritz Romeus, also happens to be behind those sordid SKIN parties, which explains the gammy, fake-boob babes cavorting about in what is an otherwise laid-back joint. The only annoyance is a minor one: Patrons into serious pool endure tight spacing between tables. This often causes a shooter to bump butt with someone at another table. On the bright side, butt-bumping's a great way to meet people.

Located in one of the oldest booze buildings in South Beach (the old Diamond Bar spot), Felt has moved forward to become a favorite hang for cats far too cool to tangle with the trendoid mobs of posers filling neonland. Ten eight-and-a-half-foot blue felt tables crowd the joint while a DJ spins an eclectic mix of Eighties rock, hip-hop, and, on rare occasions, some dance. Felt's top shark, Fritz Romeus, also happens to be behind those sordid SKIN parties, which explains the gammy, fake-boob babes cavorting about in what is an otherwise laid-back joint. The only annoyance is a minor one: Patrons into serious pool endure tight spacing between tables. This often causes a shooter to bump butt with someone at another table. On the bright side, butt-bumping's a great way to meet people.

For all its chic international appeal, the poolside bar scene at the Delano remains refreshingly accessible. No velvet ropes, no beefy bouncers, no clipboard-wielding door divas. As a nonguest, you should be polite and use some stealth: stroll nonchalantly through the sumptuous lobby into the carefully manicured rear area. Meander past the rows of private bungalows to the back bar, then plunk yourself on a stool providing a perfect view of South Beach's lotus eaters in full glory. The music's not too loud (lounging without migraines: what a concept), and the drinks, while hardly a bargain (this is South Beach), are lower-priced than the jewelry and designer swimsuits you'll spy on guests lazily drifting about the pool's brightly dappled water. After a few cocktails you may find yourself transfixed by the pool itself: Its "virtual edges" are now de rigueur for fine hotels around the nation. And should you spot a hot celeb tanning on a deck chair, keep your camera tucked away. The security staff is cool, and quick to toss paparazzi staking out Hollywood dreams. In all ways, discretion is the better part of having a blast, or just getting blasted, at the Delano.

For all its chic international appeal, the poolside bar scene at the Delano remains refreshingly accessible. No velvet ropes, no beefy bouncers, no clipboard-wielding door divas. As a nonguest, you should be polite and use some stealth: stroll nonchalantly through the sumptuous lobby into the carefully manicured rear area. Meander past the rows of private bungalows to the back bar, then plunk yourself on a stool providing a perfect view of South Beach's lotus eaters in full glory. The music's not too loud (lounging without migraines: what a concept), and the drinks, while hardly a bargain (this is South Beach), are lower-priced than the jewelry and designer swimsuits you'll spy on guests lazily drifting about the pool's brightly dappled water. After a few cocktails you may find yourself transfixed by the pool itself: Its "virtual edges" are now de rigueur for fine hotels around the nation. And should you spot a hot celeb tanning on a deck chair, keep your camera tucked away. The security staff is cool, and quick to toss paparazzi staking out Hollywood dreams. In all ways, discretion is the better part of having a blast, or just getting blasted, at the Delano.

This Mediterranean-style bar and outdoor restaurant with a view of Fisher Island sits elegantly on a sandy bank at South Pointe, beneath the towering Murano Grande at Portofino, and bills itself "the South of France at the South of Fifth." (While some think South Beach ends at Fifth Street, those with taste know that's where the good stuff begins.) This posh hangout features amenities for oh-so-fabulous, R&R-seeking VIPeople: cabanas, massage tables (with masseur), a saltwater pool, and plenty of gorgeous models practicing catwalk struts. It's a private club -- you have to be a resident of the Murano or pay for a pricey membership -- but nonmembers can gain access with nothing more than a VIP demeanor and the name of a member they claim to be meeting. With an elite crowd that's heavy on nightlife- and fashion-industry honchos, you can expect a fair share of tall European lovelies shaking what they got. Many men who pass through La Piaggia are celebrities with a lust for ladies, among them R. Kelly, Tommy Lee, and none other than former President Bill "Mr. Hillary" Clinton. That's because they are well aware that this place is ground zero for hot models.

This Mediterranean-style bar and outdoor restaurant with a view of Fisher Island sits elegantly on a sandy bank at South Pointe, beneath the towering Murano Grande at Portofino, and bills itself "the South of France at the South of Fifth." (While some think South Beach ends at Fifth Street, those with taste know that's where the good stuff begins.) This posh hangout features amenities for oh-so-fabulous, R&R-seeking VIPeople: cabanas, massage tables (with masseur), a saltwater pool, and plenty of gorgeous models practicing catwalk struts. It's a private club -- you have to be a resident of the Murano or pay for a pricey membership -- but nonmembers can gain access with nothing more than a VIP demeanor and the name of a member they claim to be meeting. With an elite crowd that's heavy on nightlife- and fashion-industry honchos, you can expect a fair share of tall European lovelies shaking what they got. Many men who pass through La Piaggia are celebrities with a lust for ladies, among them R. Kelly, Tommy Lee, and none other than former President Bill "Mr. Hillary" Clinton. That's because they are well aware that this place is ground zero for hot models.

All the mixers at Automatic Slim's deserve an award, so the nod goes to senior server (she's been there longest, she doesn't just serve elderly people) Mara Degenhardt. The Washington Avenue bar that claims to be the place "where the beautiful come to get ugly" was the first to play up the Coyote Ugly mien by allowing the gorgeous female bartenders to prop themselves up on the bar, perform a hot number to the sounds of Eighties pop metal, and pour free shots to rowdy patrons. Mara gets top billing not just for seniority: the stunning six-foot-tall, Amazonian blonde won Gillette's Best Legs in America contest last year, and she whips up a mean margarita. She's also the self-appointed "mother" of the staff. The bartender babes at Slim's definitely need one: All are wild and love to party along with the crowd, but if you go too far -- say, reach across the bar and grab one of their parts -- Mara will flat kick your ass.

All the mixers at Automatic Slim's deserve an award, so the nod goes to senior server (she's been there longest, she doesn't just serve elderly people) Mara Degenhardt. The Washington Avenue bar that claims to be the place "where the beautiful come to get ugly" was the first to play up the Coyote Ugly mien by allowing the gorgeous female bartenders to prop themselves up on the bar, perform a hot number to the sounds of Eighties pop metal, and pour free shots to rowdy patrons. Mara gets top billing not just for seniority: the stunning six-foot-tall, Amazonian blonde won Gillette's Best Legs in America contest last year, and she whips up a mean margarita. She's also the self-appointed "mother" of the staff. The bartender babes at Slim's definitely need one: All are wild and love to party along with the crowd, but if you go too far -- say, reach across the bar and grab one of their parts -- Mara will flat kick your ass.

Alexander Oliva
The cool new dueling jukeboxes (one local tracks, the other national; they switch back and forth when both are being played). New edifice. Tile flooring. Redesigned patio and outside bar. The improvements made during the past couple of years are fine, but to change the essence of the only club that could be considered the pinnacle of rock staging for boozing, partying audiences would be sacrilege. "The Church" would remain real-rock heaven if they painted the place pink, poured mud on the floors, and sold only two types of brew instead of four dozen. Sound system, music, roof and walls, business licenses -- and that ephemeral "essence" -- along with the management skills of Dave Daniels and his main man Mike Toms are enough. Churchill's is so much more.

Best Of Miami®

Best Of Miami®