Despite what you've heard, the best place to fly in the 305 is not Miami International Airport, Kendall-Tamiami Executive Airport, Richards Field, Opa-locka Executive Airport, or even Homestead General Aviation Airport. Nope, the best place to soar midair is at the South Florida Circus Art School in North Miami Beach. You still might have to take off your shoes, but rest assured that no clowns will frisk you or confiscate your liquids. Instead, master-level circus performers teach contortion, trapeze, aerial fitness, and flying yoga. Learn how to glide through the air using a single strip of fabric and no safety line. Spiral, drop, or climb higher and lower using only key grips and your killer core strength. Laurie Allen, who owns and runs SFCAS, says she acquired her first crop of instructors at a Cirque du Soleil audition. She also says that because circus performers practice every day, you never know which visiting big-top artists will be strung up next to you. But don't let that intimidate you. The classes are filled with just as many fitness freaks as those collecting Barnum & Bailey paychecks.

There's nothing more entertaining than watching underage kids escaping from late-night raves and wandering near the bus terminal during Ultra Music Festival. Typically standing around and waiting for someone to give them a ride home, these kids are easy to spot even in the darkness: lanky, sweaty teens wearing shit-eating grins, loads of rubber or string bracelets, and such a mix of fluorescents, patterns, and ill-fitting spandex accouterments that make them look like refugees from an American Apparel store in the Harajuku district.

The sold-out event atop the Herzog & de Meuron-designed 1111 Lincoln Road parking garage transformed the exposed concrete structure into a whimsical playground of sweets. But while this candyland featured delicious cakes by Jacques Torres, Ron Ben-Israel, Duff Goldman, Lori Karmel, Colette Peters, and others, there was more to the sugar rush than baked goods. The celebration, which highlighted the South Beach Wine & Food Festival's tenth anniversary, featured an open bar that included Moët & Chandon, 10 Cane Rum, Hennessy, and Grand Marnier. And if partygoers needed a break from the sweets and alcohol, Shake Shack was there with burgers to soak it all up. Did we mention Martha Stewart and Emeril Lagasse hosted? Perhaps it's because we were too busy watching ice sculptors transform blocks of frozen water into the biggest birthday cake we've ever seen.

You might not think women who actively write and read are automatically attractive, but one day you will want your children to be literate. You know who'll teach them to read? Your intelligent woman. But it's not always easy to find smart ladies when you're boozing at Mansion like it's your full-time job. Brainy gals are busy doing other things besides lines of cocaine. Miami Poetry Collective's Miami Squares helps bring quality females out of their hiding places. You'd be hard-pressed to find a group of dummies who came out for a night of playing with words. The evening of poetry isn't your typical reading (snoozefest); rather it involves interactive and evolving formats and playful poetry games. Miami Squares breaks down the usual reading/listening formats that make verse unsexy and creates fun times through outrageous and elaborate ways of dealing with language. The exercises are funny, goofy, and interactive. Nothing has changed since high school — poetry is still the best way to meet smart women.

Sweat, sawdust, Budweiser, and brains. These are the ingredients for a panty-dropping potion. All are in abundance at the Little River Yacht Club. This place isn't a yacht club at all, but an artists' association, studio, workshop, and gallery situated amid the warehouses and barking dogs of the Little River neighborhood. The Little River Yacht Club shows artwork that other galleries might deem unsafe, which is kind of hot, no? During the exhibit "That's Not a Knife," a giant crossbow shot wooden projectiles through a wooden target, and "Can You Feel It?" by Los Angeles artist John Burtle made us feel it. The artists who rent studio space here aren't all men, but they include manly dudes such as Justin H. Long, Richard Haden, Emmett Moore, Robert "Meatball" Lorie, and Orlando Estrada. These guys are engineering masterminds who forge contraptions and artworks out of wood or metal. They also wax philosophic at Salon Theory Night, when matters of the mind and art are explored every other Tuesday. Don't be intimidated, though. Women are welcome — and also welcome to bring their own Bud Light or even a bottle or box of wine.

Any mathematician, gambler, or Google employee will tell you it's a numbers game. A-holes like Mystery and the rest of the pack of Pick-Up Artists/ Game devotees understand the formula: Hit on a lot of girls, and eventually one will be a winner. Yes, numbers are important. So where can you tip the ratio in your favor? Start with the basics: Find a place where a large number of women flock. If you're thinking a Victoria's Secret sale or Zumba class, you're on the right track, but you risk being perceived as a creep. So instead, prove your modern-day savvy and go online. No, not to Match.com; sign up for daily deal site Gilt City. Soon enough you'll find an event filled with women in their 20s and 30s with a penchant for the finer things in life at discounted prices. Cue the polished, well-dressed, money-saving, girly girl who loves manis, pedis, cosmos, and small dogs, designer bag included. You're likely to be one of the few straight men at these events, mingling with the young, pretty, and professional set. Face it: You're outnumbered, and you love it.

Hot as hell, dripping with sweat and money, all worked up from wielding their big sticks, and speaking with accents so sexy they could make any mare melt. These are the men who come to Miami annually for some polo play. Don't bother looking for wedding bands — they don't wear them for fear of blisters. Sure, they might have a woman back home in Argentina, but for now they're free. Should they ask if you want to pet their ponies, just go along. And that's just the players. Sitting in the stands are sponsors, team owners, and all-around pinkies-up types who will be happy to explain the finer points of the sport to any lady dressed in a cleavage-baring ensemble. Yes, ladies, and dudes who like dudes, the Miami Beach Polo Cup is the match-play event of the season. Saddle up.

Imagine: She has her hair pulled back in a taut bun and is wearing short heels and an even shorter skirt. The stem of a (we hope) thornless red rose is clenched between her teeth. He has his hair slicked back and is dressed in tight jeans and a shirt that won't show too much armpit sweat. The heavily rhythmic music begins and off they go, dancing so closely that only a body condom could stop the pheromone exchange. Now is that a hot first date or what? Taking a tango class is the best way to cop a cheap feel and show your partner that you aren't afraid of a cultural education. Lessons are held every Monday through Thursday from 8 to 10 p.m. and Friday from 8 to 8:30 p.m., and even beginners can walk in anytime, so there's no need for much advance planning. The cost for each class is only $15, and there's no obligation to join. What else do you want? A freakin' bed, some baby oil, and a candle?

If Mark were a frigatebird, we'd know he likes us when he inflates his red throat sac into a giant heart balloon. If he were a snail, he'd shoot love darts at us. If he were a porcupine, he'd waddle up and pee on us. But Mark is an evolved 21st-century human, complete with opposable thumbs, a poker face, and a questionable Gap wardrobe. And his interest level and personality are about as expressive as his beige chinos. No big deal. We already knew we weren't into him the moment he opened his mouth and said howdy. But here we are on our second date at Drinking & Drawing, a sort of happy hour meets doodling meets musical chairs. Every few minutes, we move down a seat and continue the drawing of the person ahead of us on little note cards. Our neighbor leaves us a sketch of a lizard waving; we draw a rabbit hive-fiving him. Next card, the same lizard is holding a sign that reads, "Ditch." We doodle a rabbit holding a shovel. The one after that, the sign reads, "Ditch That." Now our rabbit is scratching her head. One more chair scootch and the lizard's sign is complete: "Ditch That Tool." The rabbit points questioningly at the shovel. The lizard drops the sign and points to the right, where Mark is sitting. By the time all the note cards are photographed, turned into a two-minute animation, and projected on the white wall of the bar, we're already out the door.

It's so easy in these techno-saturated times to break off a relationship via text or Facebook message, but a true lady or gentleman never takes the simplest way out. Even if you've been dating someone for only a few weeks and decide you're not feeling it, you have to do it in person. Luckily, we have the perfect place. Ask your soon-to-be-former flame to meet you some Sunday afternoon at Lummus Park — yes, the most crowded strip of sand on South Beach. Be a dear and make sure you look your most grotesque. No need to rub your hotness in the poor schlub's face. Then calmly do your best "it's not you, it's me" and make the break. You're in public, so things likely won't get too heated. Plus the park is always crowded, so you can easily escape into the horde. If your now-ex needs to cry, at least those sunglasses will hide the tears. And the hypnotic sound of waves crashing is calming. Plus with all the hotties regularly populating the sands, it's not hard for your dumped one to find a quick rebound. So, sure, maybe the relationship didn't result in much, but at least you've both ended it with nice tans.