Between Homestead and Key West, the eighteen-mile-long village of islands called Islamorada is probably the most happening of the northern Florida Keys. That's saying a lot: The pace of life is still steady as she goes, and sun-drenched relaxation is the order of the day. But there are adorable souvenir shops, tropical art galleries, and — most importantly — lots of bars and restaurants. A cruise down to Islamorada can take less than an hour from Kendall or South Miami, and sitting in the shade at the Tiki Bar (www.holidayisle.com/rest-bars/tiki.html), you feel like you're on vacation much further away from home. At this thatched frat house of a bar back in 1972, inventive bartender "Tiki" John created the rum runner. For $8.60 you can enjoy the sweet taste of Islamorada history. The Island Grill (www.keysdining.com/islandgrill) is another local favorite, with its own beach and comfortable waterfront seating. Dinner at the Islamorada Fish Company (www.islamoradafishcompany.com) is worth the wait for a romantic waterfront dinner and one last cocktail before heading back to Miami. The front of this vast establishment is a popular fish market with great prices on fresh-caught stone crab, yellowtail ($12.99 a pound, baby!), and delectable, buttery lobsters — you can get a whole one for $8.99 a pound, out of season. Eat dinner on the waterfront — some pretty big fish come swimming up to the marina to be fed by eager guests.

Sure you could have a house party, but then there's the cleanup. Clubs are exciting, but snobby doormen and expensive drinks can put a damper on your night. Area 61 is a hidden gem. Located at the end of a winding road, it looks like any one of many surrounding warehouses. But inside the converted studio is surprisingly cozy and intimate — two musts when it comes to choosing a location for your bash. The parking is free and the urban ambiance is fitting for anything from a small birthday soiree to a banging dance blowout. All that, plus your friends will be impressed with your ability to sniff out a place for an authentic underground warehouse party. The venue also has couches to lounge on, a stage (for drunken antics), cordless mikes, a PA, a projector, and surround sound.

Reville Veillard, employee of Flamingo Taxi, has driven many a drunk partier in his day, and it hasn't always been pretty. "Sometimes they throw up in the car," he says. But despite the cleanup, Veillard doesn't mind chauffeuring the extremely inebriated. Even after twenty years of crappy tips and wasted patrons, Veillard still claims, "They're good people." Yes, better to ruin the interior of a taxi rather than your own driving record — or someone else's life. Now don't go and make Veillard change his mind about these "good" drunks; if you've had a few too many drinks and you're on Miami Beach, call him for a ride at 786-306-3926.

The Barnacle Historic State Park is the perfect environment to enjoy a relaxing high. After you smoke that Philly, step into Old Florida. Walk through the gated entrance, drop some change in the donation box ($1 is suggested), and get a glimpse of what Miami looked like when it was first settled back in the mid-1800s. As you enter the dark corridor of tropical and exotic trees, you can smell the native coffee shrubs that grow wild here. Be careful which plants you touch, because there are poison woods growing here. Look closely and you might be able to watch black sap dripping down their orange trunks (a must-see if you're in the proper state). Inhale the intoxicating breeze as you reach the end of this tropical hardwood hammock, stepping into the five-acre park with Biscayne Bay at its tip. Sit and relax on one of the plush outdoor sofas or rocking chairs as the sailboats on the blue bay slowly float by. Check out the artesian well that was the main source of water for the estate, which was first settled in 1877 by Ralph Munroe, one of Coconut Grove's founders. Take a tour of his house, built in 1891 and the oldest still in its original location in Miami-Dade County.

We're pulling out of the Miami Beach Marina's parking lot on a recent Friday evening. We've pounded a few libations at Monty's Raw Bar, so we're not quite sure what to make of the portly man in the denim overalls and T-shirt. His right hand is clutching something inside a plastic bag. Is it a gunç A knifeç Does he want to kill usç He sprouts a grin that spreads from ear to ear. His curly black hair is a mangled mess. He pulls out a gigantic vibrating faux penis from the bag. "Hey, bro, if I give you a couple of lines of cocaine, will you let me stick this up your assç" Ummm, no. He cackles off to a nearby white stretch limo, where he offers the same proposition to a man hanging out of the passenger-side window.