Eric Reed is the Brian Williams of Miami sports shows. Hear us out on this one. You trust the brass-voiced NBC newsman to tell it to you straight, right? Well, you can trust Reed when it comes to the latest in Miami sports. Tough draft picks, game-winning plays, and player performance, its all hot takes from the Ticket's Eric Reed Show. Reed's incisive conversation isn't the only draw; whatever the season, you can count on a top-shelf crew of analysts at his side, from Fox Sports Florida Marlins analyst Preston Wilson to Miami Heat guard Norris Cole to ESPN basketball analyst Doris Burke to MLB Network's Brian Kenny and Miami Herald Fins writer Adam Beasley. That mix of intense sports discussion and expert analysis makes The Eric Reed Show a great sports news show. But like Williams — who also stars in awesome viral rap videos on Jimmy Kimmel Live — Reed can also embrace the funny. His end-of-the-week segment "What's Wrong With People?" breaks up the sports talk with some basic, hilarious, shootin'-the-breeze man-talk.

Last spring, a gaping hole yawned in Miami's drive-time radio landscape when nationally syndicated Michael Baisden and his distributor, Cumulus Media, couldn't agree on a new deal for the host, whose mix of politics and music had reached more than eight million listeners nationwide. Miami's Hot 105.1 FM had a choice on its hands: Find another coast-to-coast program to pick up for the Magic City's listeners, or turn to a local to rescue its airwaves. Hot 105.1 went local, and Miami listeners haven't looked back. Rick Party may have grown up in Chicago, but he joined Hot 105 twenty-two years ago and has since become an institution on the dial. From 3 to 7 p.m. Monday through Friday, Rick Party in the Afternoon makes weekdays feel like weekends. He and his team deliver hilarious takes on the day's topics, entertaining listener discussions, and, of course, great music. Each episode ends with a cute moment from Party's young daughter, Zion. Who needs national talent when the homegrown hosts are this good?

Her nickname is Spanish for "the Kitten." But Betzy Vázquez has a ferocious, sexy roar that has been waking up listeners of her 106.7 FM morning show, El Vacilón de la Gatita, ever since the station switched to a Spanish contemporary music format in November 2013. The show is also simulcast on sister station 95.7 FM, where Vázquez began the Miami leg of her 25-year radio career. An olive-skinned beauty with perfect hair and an assertive voice, Vázquez got into radio when she was just 15 years old. By her early 20s, she was holding down the midday slot for WAPA radio. After bouncing around several stations in Puerto Rico, Vázquez moved in 2003 to Orlando, where she dominated the midday slot and became one of the most important voices in Central Florida. Today, Vázquez anchors the number one show on 106.7 and is a big reason the station has steadily increased its Arbitron ratings in early 2014. "We've worked very hard to get the number one spot," she recently told the hosts of Mega TV talk show Charytín y Felix. "There is no formula for it other than to present yourself as who you are, be honest, and speak without fear of censorship." The Puerto Rican native is the only Hispanic woman in the South Florida market anchoring her own morning program, which airs weekdays from 6 to 10 a.m. ¡Viva La Gatita!

"One sun rose on us today," Richard Blanco intoned from the steps of the U.S. Capitol. Millions of viewers watched on television, and President Barack Obama sat a few feet away, surrounded by the dignitaries gathered to celebrate his second inauguration. "Kindled over our shores, peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces of the Great Lakes," Blanco read on. The lines were more than just the opening to his acclaimed poem "One Today"; they were vividly worded landmarks in Miami history. On that cold January morning, Blanco, a native son raised in Westchester and educated at Christopher Columbus High and Florida International University, became the first immigrant, the first Latino, and the first openly gay inaugural poet. He hardly stopped there. By year's end, he'd had three other works published and gathered plaudits including the Paterson Poetry Prize and an honorary doctorate from Macalester College. Blanco may call Maine home these days, but it's the immigrant experience and the complex identities that collided every day of his Miami upbringing that still drive his work. "One Today," his inaugural poem read to the nation that morning in Washington, is a paean to America's diversity, but it's not difficult to find the DNA of Blanco's hometown in every line. In the weeks that followed that historic moment, he later told the Miami Herald, "I realized how much of a son of Miami I am."

The trouble began in San Cristobal, a hilly town hugging the winding border between Venezuela and Colombia. Jim Wyss was there to talk about contraband, the black-market goods that flood across the border in a country where Hugo Chávez's Bolivarian Revolution continues to wreak havoc on the economy long after his death. A promised interview with a border general turned into hours of waiting, though, and when Wyss tried to bail, he was suddenly thrown into a car and whisked away to a military intelligence compound. This was no interview, he learned; he was under arrest. Such are the occupational hazards of life as the Miami Herald's Andean bureau chief. As one of the last full-time American daily staffers on the foreign-reporting beat, Wyss carries a heavy load from his home base in Bogotá. Yet it's to his credit that writing about an entire continent hasn't led to an influx of dry reports about economic trends or political horseraces. Instead, between his hard-hitting updates on regional conflicts, Wyss has turned in wild narratives about a War of the Worlds-like radio show terrifying Ecuador, graffiti art taking over Bogotá, and Colombian Christmas ads aimed at shaming guerrillas straight. And as that day in San Cristobal shows, he has put his neck on the line to find the stories. For almost 48 hours after his sudden arrest in November 2013, Wyss sat in jail cells wondering whether Maduro's government planned to make an example of the Yankee reporter who had poked too deeply into the troubled regime's issues. With the help of American diplomats, though, saner heads prevailed and Wyss was released. And then? He wrote a killer story about the whole ordeal, of course.

After four years of barking at dishonest politicians and lobbyists, former Miami Herald reporter Elaine de Valle has pulled off a rare feat in this town: She's treated with the same respect afforded to credentialed journalists employed by the dead-lumber media companies. And it's no surprise why. The hard-nosed, old-school reporter tallied 18 years at the Herald before founding Political Cortadito, where she's become a go-to online watchdog sniffing out the latest shenanigans of South Florida's elected officials. From Homestead to Hialeah, de Valle has blown up corruption and unethical behavior and scored a parade of scoops. In the first half of 2014 alone, she broke news about Coral Gables City Manager Pat Salerno giving benefits and raises to his favored employees before abruptly resigning, the Doral City Council's surprise move to axe ex-Miami city manager Joe Carollo, and former state representative Ana Rivas Logan's shocking move to bail on the GOP and become a Democrat. Even when sources slam doors in her face or get her thrown out of rooms, de Valle — often writing as her alter ego "Ladra" — keeps nipping at their heels. Her relentless nature and work ethic have made her blog a must-read for thousands of followers who still care about changing Miami's banana republic political culture by using a healthy dose of transparency.

"All my jokes are tweets that were too many characters," local stand-up comedian Michael Maryanoff once proclaimed in his Twitter bio. It's not uncommon for standups to workshop jokes on the microblogging service, but — for all his humble-bragging — Maryanoff is actually one of the few local comedians making the most of 140 characters or fewer. Some recent gems from his feed:

"How to tell you're at a Cuban party: all the parents are dancing and it's not embarrassing."

"How were people even passive-aggressive before the internet? Especially you-know-who with his stupid office drama posts. Ugh, so annoying."

"Thankfully, the heat in Miami has moved from 'North Korea' to 'China' in terms of oppressiveness."

"You don't need a breathalyzer to figure out when I'm drunk. You'll know when I start calling my girlfriend 'bro.'"

But Maryanoff's road to the stage and Twitter comedy wasn't typical. He began standup as a hobby after being diagnosed with cancer at age 23, and his recovery from the disease has spawned Twitter gold as well: "Wonder when the weight comments are gonna go from 'You gained some good weight post-chemo!' to 'How does your girlfriend still fuck you?'"

If a guy can make a good chemo joke, well, he's probably someone you wouldn't be disappointed to follow.

Just gay guys are reading this item, right? So we can fill this with a bunch of RuPaul's Drag Race references and you'll understand? Yes, gawd! After 15 years on Lincoln Road, Score's landlords told the legendary gay bar to sashay away, so like a panther on the runway, it shantéed to Washington Avenue last year. Before doors opened, all the South Beach gays were wondering, How is she, though? The answer: sickening! Inside, you'll find Pit Crew-worthy bartenders serving drinks, and enough trade on the floor for all your kiki-ing and kai-kai-ing needs. Weekend nights are packed to the rafters, but the Tuesday Latin party and Thursday pop party (hosted by South Beach's perennial drag superstars Daisy Deadpetals and Chyna Girl) provide perfect midweek diversions, henny. Though it's at a new location, Score remains the best place to feel your oats, feel your fantasies, and serve whatever type of realness you want. Okurrrr!

When you're looking for a laid-back evening of food and booze, sometimes it's best to get away from the bustle of South Beach and take a night off from hunting for parking in the Gables. Miami Springs might not be famous for hopping nightlife, but Woody's West End Tavern offers an easygoing getaway from all the Magic City madness. Woody's is a colorful little spot near Miami International Airport with a Florida-meets-Hawaii design. Panthers and Dolphins memorabilia and all the big screens make this an excellent game-watching scene, but it's more cheery than your typical sports bar, with ample seating both inside and outdoors, where there's a sandy ode-to-surfing area, comfy chairs, and a large screening wall for games. Live music nights on the patio Fridays and Saturdays bring in the biggest crowds, with jazz, blues, and rock bands playing late, while daily happy hour from 4:30 to 7:30 p.m. gets you half-price appetizers and specials on drinks. Woody's has 15 draft beers — a mix of local, domestic, and seasonal spotlights that's continuously updated. You'll find great brews such as Kona Brewing Company and Dogfish Head Brewery for about $4.50 a pint or bottle. The tavern's made-to-order menu includes all the usual fixings, such as fries, wings, and burgers, plus a good bit of seafood. With its friendly staff, jukebox jams, and fair prices, Woody's makes spending a day in quiet suburbia a surprising treat.

Some folks like their drag queens on the tame side, expertly tucked and quaffed, and ready to smile through Katy Perry lyrics. But for the most part, that ain't Miami's style. This city's got flavor — a lot of Latin flavor, in fact — and the queens at Azucar serve it in abundance. Formerly called Club Sugar, Azucar offers a lethal dose of salsa, disco, and diva flair, plus a dash of dirty that suits this filthy town just right. Every Thursday through Sunday, the club's performers bust out song numbers and skits, all while keeping the energy at 11. There's everything, including Latina pageant gals lipping ballads and girls getting weird to Gaga. For the fiercest performances, however, Thursday night's Drag Wars is a bitch battle not to be missed. Dolls from all backgrounds compete for the weekly $100 prize and a chance at the semifinals down the road. At Azucar, you can surround the floor and they'll snatch your dollars like the hungry human claw machines they are. Sure, the show doesn't kick off till 2 a.m., but the crowd comes late and the cover stays below $10, so suck down a vodka Red Bull and get with it.