Bars & Clubs

Mario Sopena’s vision created the chillest place on South Beach. Hassle free and far enough from the glitterati of Washington Avenue, it attracted the hottest DJs thanks to the creative bookings of Michael Storms. Notable personalities like Rudolph Piper, Jon Cowan, and Sami Stormo helped spread the word, and for a time it seemed Nerve was on its way to earning a place among the South Beach standards with its dance-friendly and relaxed attitude. Then, after some discord behind closed doors, lawsuits over equity, and the demise of its neighbor Rain, Nerve began to unravel. Nerve tried to reinvent itself as an exclusive joint for big spenders, but it was too late. The pulse of the venue slowed to a still until it finally vanished into the clubland void. RIP Nerve Lounge.

Under the able musical direction of bassist Don Wilner, Upstairs at the Van Dyke remains Miami’s premier jazz club. No other venue comes close in terms of consistency — 365 days per year. (Check the Website for calendars and newsletters.) And in terms of consistently high quality, nothing can match the club’s rotating cast of regulars: Wilner, Mike Orta, Rose Max, Wendy Pedersen, Goetz Kujack, Sammy Figueroa, Turk Mauro, José Negroni. If they’re not onstage, you’ll likely find a well-known visiting artist. Among those Wilner has brought to the comfortable room above Mark Soyka’s landmark café: John Abercrombie, Eric Alexander, Harry Allen, Mose Allison, Freddy Cole, George Coleman, Kenny Drew, Eddie Henderson, John Hicks, Tania Maria, James Moody, Mark Murphy, Houston Person, Norman Simmons, Grady Tate, Toots Thielemans, and Cedar Walton.

Everyone knows that a hotel party is the hippest recreational activity in Miami. Just check out the pages of People and InStyle and you’ll see celebrities lifting cocktails to the camera while sitting on comfy sofas and enjoying the opulence and verve of South Beach’s finest hotels. You too can sit among the pulchritudinous stars while sipping mango mojitos, cosmopolitans, or vanilla rum and Cokes in the recently reopened Hotel Victor. Romantic lighting, sexy bartenders, and a mesmerizing illuminated tank filled with live jellyfish make the V Bar and Lounge the swanky place to be.

Readers´ Choice: Fox´s Sherron Inn

With the exception of Khaled’s frequent cameos in Fat Joe’s music videos, Irie may be the only local jock who regularly makes it onto network television, which he does via his gig as the official DJ for the Miami Heat during its home games. A more visceral place to hear Irie is at a club, and there are plenty of opportunities for such an experience. His resident appearances at the Hotel Astor on Tuesdays, at Oxygen Lounge on Wednesdays, and at Opium Garden on Sundays burn ears and get feet smoking. He cuts and scratches records with a dexterity atypical of most club DJs: He doesn’t just spin records, he performs with them, creating a vinyl solution for those who demand something above the norm from their turntablists.

Readers´ Choice: Matt Cash

Thirty well-kept professional-size tables, fair drink prices, an excellent jukebox, and low prices — $10 per hour (for the table, not per person) for two players, $12 per hour for three — are all good reasons to shoot stick at this FIU-adjacent pool hall. Where most places either have cheap prices and terrible equipment (ripped felt, bent cues) or top-notch equipment accompanied by outrageous prices, New Wave strikes the right balance. Plus you can watch the viejos shoot true billiards on the six pocketless tables in the center of the room.

The best VIP rooms are exclusive, far removed from the peasants, and exude cool at all times. In the middle of the unending mayhem here stands a big yellow school bus that serves as the presidential suite, and it meets all of the above criteria. It’s functional too. The bus windows are well within eyeshot of promoter Josh Menendez as he does his thing, and from the safety of the school zone, you can look down upon the peons as they become endlessly intertwined with each other. On any given Revolver Friday, the club becomes jammed with party people, becoming so cramped that unless you have the clout to hitch a ride on the bus, you’ll be spilling drinks, or having drinks spilled on you, all night. But if you’re a true playa who’s literally on the bus, it’s nothing but fine tablecloths, mood lighting, and champagne, baby.

The Bar is the best of both bar worlds. Dark and cool even at midday and absolutely shadowed at night, it’s a great place to drown sorrow or joy in a shot glass of bourbon accompanied by one of the Bar’s many boutique beers. But Giralda Avenue is in Coral Gables, after all, and if you’re going to have an establishment there, you might as well give the rich folk something to throw their cash at. The Bar’s food is bar food, but not of the microwaved-mozzarella-stick variety. It is inexpensive enough for the budget-conscious drinker and fine enough for the discerning bourgeois palate. Chicken tenders, for instance, are strips of chicken breast dipped in a homemade spicy breading and deep fried until crisp. They taste a lot like homemade fried chicken and absolutely nothing like the warmed-over, limp fingers that most bars serve, and you get a plateful (between four and six strips usually) for six bucks. The six-dollar burgers are a steal as well — juicy lumps of high-quality meat actually cooked to order (as opposed to many bars, where the waitress politely asks how you’d like your burger cooked and returns with something akin to a blackened-carbon sandwich) and dressed any way you like. The eight-dollar steak sandwich — a healthy slab of grilled London broil topped with melted provolone on a hunk of French bread — couldn’t be better. The menu is pretty extensive, with plenty of sandwich and salad options and the requisite bar-food appetizers, all of them better than you’re likely to find at your neighborhood watering hole.

From the truly pickled to neighborhood families, denizens of the southern stretch from Naranja to Homestead partake in pitchers and wings and fresh fish fillets daily at Keg South. The bar serves exclusively beer and wine, and the most exotic brew on tap is Heineken, but all mugs of beer cost only two dollars. The place can get crowded on weekends and at dinnertime, a sure sign they’re doing something right in the kitchen (food comes nestled in wax paper inside plastic baskets — try the fried green tomato appetizer for five dollars or the excellent seven-dollar burger platters). Regular old-timers sit at the bar and on wood benches every afternoon, some of them shooting pool and playing sad old country songs on the jukebox.

Readers´ Choice: Fox´s Sherron Inn

Walking into Duffy’s Tavern is like entering some kind of marvelous Twilight Zone, where the whole place seems able to transform, to transcend time and space, according to the whims of the computerized jukebox that rests unobtrusively against a wall near the bar. According to owner Wayne Russell, the box is stocked with about 2000 songs. “Some I like, some I don’t like. But mostly rock,” he explains. An obscure track from Metallica’s thrash classic Kill ‘Em All segues into a disconcertingly jaunty ode to the Emerald Isle, “Irish Jaunting Car,” by Leo McCaffrey. The regulars don’t bat an eye, and looking around at the Irish collectibles — the ceaseless digital countdown to St. Patrick’s Day, the Guinness brewerania, and shillelaghs (knobby Irish walking sticks dangling from the ceiling amid ornate steins and ancient beer bottles) — the jig feels oddly appropriate. After a moment of rest — chatter, the clink of glasses, and the shouting of sports announcers from twenty TV sets filling the void — the opening strains of Led Zeppelin’s “Goin’ to California” twinkle in the background. The bartender brings you another ale, the customers continue on their individual journeys to pleasant intoxication, and Zeppelin flows into Aretha Franklin’s shimmering soul song “Ain’t No Way.” Way.

Readers´ Choice: Fox´s Sherron Inn

There’s something eerie about American Legion Post No. 29 at night. The bar, a huge sunken square that could probably fit 60 people, is almost always empty. The comfortable couches, unused. The pool table and dart board, dormant. Often the only person in the place is the bartender, watching the big-screen TV set alone. This makes sense only in Miami, where people wait in line to get into swanky clubs with overpriced drinks rather than chill at an inexpensive watering hole like the Legion. For instance, during happy hour at the American Legion (5:00 to 9:00 p.m. every weekday), six dollars gets you two bottles of Bud and a shot of Jack. At most SoBe spots, you’re lucky if six bucks gets you a Red Stripe and a condescending sneer from the bartender.

It’s Sunday night and you’re still suffering from a wicked hangover. You need food, water, and a little hair of the dog. The best cure for the cocktail flu is a bloody mary with enough spice to give those queasies a kick in the ass. Select your favorite vodka, say how spicy you want it, and you’ll be served a superior beverage with a heaping dose of sympathy. And the price is right ($1.99 for well; $4.49 for Grey Goose) for someone who spent Saturday night buying scores of drinks, yet didn’t score one phone number.

Yes, all the fabulous boys go to Twist and other South Beach haunts we’ve given this award to time and again. But for those looking for a real Miami experience, Azucar is fantastic. It’s kind of a down-and-dirty muy Cubano salsa club/gay bar located on a quiet road just south of Coral Way. It reveals its origins as a former disco palace with a wide open dance floor on which everyone in the house jumps the moment the drag shows are finished. The club promotes its “Crazy Fridays” and “Arroz con Mango” Saturdays, as well as a ladies’ night Wednesdays. The shows (mostly in Spanish) alone are worth the price of admission, generally five or ten dollars. The Sunday-night cabaret show is pure draggy camp mixed with a few occasional elements such as a couple of ballet dancers performing a pas de deux or a beyond risqué burlesque number performed by a woman in her seventies.

Readers´ Choice: Score

The District and its competitor, Grass, are breathing new life into the Design District after the sun goes down. While Grass is a hoity-toity affair with a velvet rope, the District has forgone the staid doorman and the cover charge in favor of a more welcoming vibe. Walk through its doors and into the courtyard on any given evening and you’ll find a vast array of people socializing around the tiled fountain or inside at the stunning glass bar as a DJ spins funky music in the background. The District is also a restaurant, so imbibers can fill up on selections from a full menu that features appetizers, killer salads, and entrées. But if you stroll in for the drinks and the people, you’ll find an easy comfort. This is a neighborhood bar, just a classier version than most.

Readers´ Choice: Tobacco Road

Amy Alonso, Yesi Leon, Alison Burgos, and Julie Garrity are four very involved lesbians. Not in the way that every hot-blooded, horny man has wet dreams about, but rather in a collaborative effort to mix sexy fun with legitimate issues concerning their lifestyles. Their parties, which include Cherry Pie, Fever at Soho Lounge, and the annual White Party at Nikki Beach, draw huge crowds of women who love women. Unlike the usual suspects in clubland, their events are much more than simply a flesh fest. In conjunction with the Miami-Dade Gay & Lesbian Chamber of Commerce, they organize philanthropic and civic events like the Women’s Networker monthly meeting, which is held at a new happy-hour location every month. They raise money and awareness for a bevy of charitable causes.

Alas, the era of the reggae club is over. Even though Miami certainly has a large enough Caribbean population to support a club entirely devoted to island music, few establishments want to put all of their eggs in that particular basket. For those craving the dancehall vibe, it’s all about hot reggae nights at unexpected, and in some cases hard-to-find, locations. Case in point, Big Fish. “We wanted to create something that was as close to being back in the islands as possible. Literally the first flyer we did was a half page, and the whole back of it was directions,” laughs Kevin Palmer, the director of events for the crew that puts these randomly scheduled Caribbean fetes, called Blink, together. The idea has grown so large that it has been exported to the land that inspired it. “We’ve taken it to Jamaica, and it’s one of the biggest parties there. A lot of people travel back and forth for the parties,” Palmer says. Blink has earned this dedicated following by changing themes for every party. Blink All White called for uniformly pale attire; Blink Pimps & Hoes brought crazy costumes out of the closet; and Blink Colors’s attendees were asked to sport the Rasta colors of red, green, and gold. Every second Saturday of each month, Big Phat Fish at Big Fish delivers the latest in reggae and soca. Named after calypso superstar Machel Montano’s hit song, this party is like Blink’s younger Trinidadian cousin.

Pinball is a nostalgic arcade game, one that really can’t be fully appreciated by those who grew up in the age of Atari or beyond. It is therefore best played in an atmosphere that doesn’t boast virtual reality goggles and video games that require the hand-eye coordination of a fighter pilot. Leave the PlayStation generation to duke it out over Halo at Gameworks, because playing pinball in a three-story coliseum of sensory and technology overload is like ordering mashed potatoes at Nobu and expecting them to taste like Mom’s. When it comes to intense flipper action, Westchester institution Bird Bowl keeps it real. Those who come to spend their hard-earned quarters will usually skip the bowling and head directly to the bing-bing of the arcade, which boasts classic video games, air hockey, and, of course, the only arcade machine ever to spawn a rock opera.

It’s not easy being young and beautiful in South Beach during the season. With a dozen modeling agencies plugging their girls and guys, the competition for those lucrative posing jobs can be intense. Luckily people like promoter Tommy Pooch and places like the Metro Kitchen & Bar at the Astor aim to make the lives of the flawless-skin set a little easier. Tuesday night’s hip-hop dinner party, now entering its second year, draws models from Wilhelmina, Next, Elite, and other agencies in packs, all of them eager to brush up against celebrities like Colin Farrell and Ashton Kutcher for that potential career bump. And Pooch makes sure the girls stick around. “We always take care of the models,” he says. The result is a bounty of beauty. The good-looking may not look at you, but hey, it’s still fun to look at them.

To-do list:

Monday: 7:00 a.m.: Drop the kids off at day care. 7:30: Hit the gym. 8:00: Shower and change into work clothes. 8:30: Read the paper while stuck in traffic on I-95. 9:00: Big meeting. 10:00: Get yelled at by boss. 11:00: Woo clients. Noon: Lunch meeting. 1:00 p.m.: Organize reports. 3:00: Meet with lawyers. 4:00: Dentist appointment. 5:30: Pick up the kids. 6:30: Prep dinner. 7:30: Balance checkbook.

Tuesday: 7:00 a.m.: Drop kids at day care. 7:30: Gym. 8:00: Shower and change. 8:30: Read the paper while stuck in traffic on 836. 9:00: Cold-call clients. 10:00: Yell back at boss. 11:00: Board meeting. Noon: Lunch meeting. 1:00 p.m.: Organize reports. 3:00: Meet with more lawyers. 4:00: Doctor appointment. 5:30: Pick up kids. 6:30: Dinner.

Wednesday: 7:00 a.m.: Drop the kids off. 7:30: Gym. 8:00: Shower, change. 8:30: Read the paper while stuck in traffic. 9:00: Paperwork. 10:00: Get yelled at by boss again. 11:00: Woo more clients. Noon: Lunch meeting. 1:00 p.m.: Organize reports. 3:00: Meet with lawyers. 4:00: Deposit money in the bank. 5:30: Pick up kids. 6:30: Prep dinner.

Thursday: 7:00 – 10:00 a.m.: The usual. 10:00: Threaten to quit. 11:00 a.m. – 3:00 p.m.: Same old same old. 3:00: Meet with bankers. 5:30: Kids. 6:30: Dinner.

Friday: 7:00 – 11:00 a.m.: Same-a same-a: 11:00: Negotiate raise. 4:00 p.m.: Refill Viagra script. 5:00: JohnMartin’s happy hour.

Saturday: Recover from hangover.

Sunday: Recover from hangover.

The bikers started showing up at the Nite Cap six or seven years ago. That’s when bartender Biker Joe arrived looking for work. Biker Joe’s friends — leather-vested, hog-riding, heavy-gutted — soon crowded the place, feeling right at home with the big American flag out front, the old veterans drinking inside, the 6:30 a.m. to 2:00 a.m. hours of operation (except Sundays, when opening time is 1:00 p.m.). The $1.50 draft beers didn’t hurt. So far it has been a happy union. “Oh, we treat ’em real good,” says Cookie McAlpine, a sprightly 66-year-old who, along with her since-deceased husband, bought the bar thirteen years ago. “We throw parties and stuff for them. If it’s a real biker party, we put out a sign that says öBikers Only.’ And we reserve the parking lot for bikes.” Not to be missed is the Nite Cap’s customized ceiling. For $35 an artist will paint something of your choice on a ceiling tile. Examples include: “David & Rona Together Forever”; “Stay Drunk, Avoid Hangovers”; and “In Memory of Shaggy Bob.”

A librarian walks into a bar. She is looking for the best martini and an even better man. Sexy and sophisticated is the way she wants her martini and her mate. She scans the bar and finds an empty seat next to a handsome gentleman. They smile and the young bartender asks what she’d like. A girl likes an attentive bartender who won’t keep her waiting and gives her three olives without even asking, and the Rose Bar delivers. They take the time to make a pristine martini that is cold, smooth, and with not a drop too much vermouth. She touches pinkies with the handsome gentleman as they reach for their martinis: hers a vodka (Grey Goose, $14) and his a traditional (Bombay Gin, $12). Did he call her a heathen? Doesn’t he know James Bond drinks vodka martinis? Bond would commend the Rose Bar for a martini shaken to perfection and a little cloudy with tiny bubbles. She tells him that shaking increases the antioxidant activity in the drink, which can reduce the risk of cataracts, strokes, and cardiovascular diseases. He is impressed with her mad librarian skills and forgives her for not drinking a real martini. Elegant lighting, glamorous clientele, and scintillating conversation with a handsome fellow makes the night a delicious chapter in the sexy librarian’s novel.

BEST ROCK CLUB I/O 30 NE Fourteenth Street

Miami

305-358-8007

www.iolounge.com People who want to enjoy live music must content themselves with I/O, Churchill’s Pub, and Tobacco Road. Of that trio, I/O, which opened in June 2003, is the young and fresh choice. In addition to the indie-rock heaven of its two Saturday-night affairs Poplife and Vice, the venue has featured everything from rock en español concerts featuring Bacilos and Volumen Cero to massive jams by rap legend KRS-One, the latter drawing so many people the place became a fire hazard. These days it offers the weekly Poplife and Vice shindigs, a monthly Goth party (Shattered Heart), and other recurring rock, electro, and hip-hop events — a little something for everybody.

Amika is the people’s nightclub, or the closest thing to that concept. The doormen have a relatively relaxed velvet-rope policy, packing the club with a smartly dressed but down-to-earth crowd. It features some of the city’s top DJs, including dance mixologists Stephan Luke and Cue on Sundays. Then there’s the electrifying vibe of the club itself: a pulsing light show that doesn’t completely overwhelm. The courteous staff doesn’t hurt at all. Amika provides a reminder that partying can include having your feet on the ground without having your nose in the air.

Readers´ Choice: crobar

Karaoke is like sushi, or country music, or George W. Bush: It’s strictly a matter of love or hate. But at Hooligan’s every Saturday night beginning at 11:00, Love conquers all. DJ Mark Love, that is, who hosts the karaoke party and opens up the microphone to would-be stars. Haters, as hard as you try to hide behind your cool veneer and your even cooler beer, you’ll be begging for a chance to join the fun before the night is over.

BEST POOLSIDE BAR The Raleigh Hotel 1775 Collins Avenue

Miami Beach

305-534-6300 Step poolside at the Raleigh Hotel and you’ll swear you’ve stepped into the 1940s: a quartet of guayabera-clad young Cuban men lounging on the patio, smoking cigars under a lazy ceiling fan. A server in crisp whites makes his way among tables that surround a gumbo limbo tree bejeweled with soft lamps hanging from its branches. Humphrey Bogart sits at the bar with a tumbler of scotch and a cigarette, while Esther Williams emerges from the spectacular fleur de lis-shaped pool. Okay, maybe not that last part, but there’s a certain tropical elegance going on at the Raleigh, a beautifully restored design by L. Murray Dixon, crafted at the height of his career. The scene here is relaxed and unassuming, with plenty of breathing room for the charm of dreaming about zoot suits and big bands.

Terri Weisberg is a tall woman, cresting six feet, with forearms to rival Rosie the Riveter. But it is Terri’s calm demeanor, facility with mixology, and all-around ‘tude that bring tranquility to the Flanigan’s in Coconut Grove. Like the legend of the wind and the sun, Terri coaxes, never threatens, and so, for a sports bar where the shots are poured generously and passions for football, baseball, and sometimes the UPN comedy series Girlfriends run high, patrons are enthusiastic but rarely rowdy. Terri keeps the kind of bar where a girl can, in total seriousness, pull up solo to the counter to read Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, drink a syrupy sweet cup of turquoise Hypnotiq, and expect not only not to be bugged by the dudes on the premises but lauded for her ability to eat French fries, watch the Notre Dame game, read, and converse at the same time. That’s just the kind of influence Terri has on the male species. But Terri wouldn’t be the best bartender in a town awash in every type of beer, wine, and spirits ever envisioned by Bacchus himself unless she really knew how to mix it up. Go ahead, bring in your bartender’s recipe book and see if you can stump Terri by calling for a purple eyeball on the beach or a soaking wet melon. Just be aware that when you receive a glass full of Jägermeister, peach schnapps, and Old Bushmills, you’re going to pay for it. Until recently Terri had a head of commandingly long coal-black hair stretching unfettered past her waist. One day Terri showed up for work, a charming bob tucked beneath her Flanigan’s visor. She had had her lovely mane lopped off, all nineteen inches of it, and donated the hair to make wigs for children undergoing chemotherapy. You really need to drink to that.

BEST NEIGHBORHOOD BAR/WEST Sports Grill 10005 Sunset Drive

Kendall

305-598-2227 The surest testament to a good neighborhood bar is whether locals actually frequent the place. For 17 years Sports Grill has been hosting families for lunch and dinner and bar patrons well into the night. The atmosphere is comfortable, featuring video games, picnic tables with wood benches, and plenty of cheap sports gimcrackery on the walls. The food is awesome, especially the bar-food triumvirate: burgers, wings, fries. The fries are homemade and tasty, and the burgers are high-quality, but the wings — Sports Grill is known for excellent wings without breading or excess grease. They are simple and delicious: chicken grilled (not fried) and served completely unadorned, with sauce on the side. Wing prices are also good: 16 pieces for $10; 25 pieces for $12.50. There is only one drawback: Sports Grill is so popular with families that the place is swarming with kids during the dinner hour. Then again, knee-huggers are an essential element of a neighborhood.

Readers´ Choice: Stampede Bar

BEST ONE-NIGHTER Bliss at Jade 1766 Bay Road

Miami Beach

305-244-5787

www.theblissclub.com The Madonna/whore complex dictates that individuals who succumb to it expect their distaff mates to exhibit demure qualities in public but devilish attributes in the bedroom. Each month the Bliss Club throws an erotic theme party at Jade that serves as the perfect fit for that dichotomy. In a socially acceptable atmosphere, upscale, professional women let loose their purity like it was prom night and, surprisingly, the men behave. Think of it as Swinging 101 for the curious, without the guilty conscience from bangin’ a stranger. Carnal pleasures abound, but it’s the voyeur who will be most satisfied. Though the themes are always changing, one of the more sultry ones this year was White Bliss, where the main garb was itty-bitty white string. One femme simply dabbed white correction fluid over her nipples; another went for the Full Monty and wore nothing but body paint. The emphasis is on the ladies, but the guys get in on the fun too, sometimes coming as colorful pimps or, as happened at Jungle Bliss, busting out exotic snakes.

Face it — on any night, any nimrod can talk good enough game to get past even the most discriminating doorman. Veteran night owls are sick to death of elbowing Lil Jon off the sidewalk on Washington Avenue and shoving past Katrina Campins to get to the free Grey Goose bar at the National. Celebrity-hosted parties in public are over. What’s really cool is to have friends, or at least acquaintances, who will invite you into their homes. There you can listen to whatever music you like, pour your own free drinks, and avoid all those annoying famous people. And going inside satisfies those voyeuristic urges as well, without the Plexiglas barrier. “The Miami of the moment is all about price per square foot,” says designer and consultant Russell Hassell, who maintains residences in Manhattan as well as Miami Beach. “People want to see what Enrique bought for one million three years ago and sold for seven million today as validation for their own purchase of the half-million-dollar, loftlike, 655-square-foot condo with soaring eight-foot ceilings and glamorous sunset views of the MacArthur Causeway.” Besides, Hassell adds, “House parties appeal to the suburban adolescent in all of us. The sight of all those cars on rich people’s lawns is very Fast Times at Ridgemont High, only with valet parking.”

BEST LATIN CLUB La Covacha 10730 NW 25th Street

Doral

305-594-3717

www.lacovacha.com Miami’s best Latin club also has a very colorful history. What used to be a rural roadhouse where Cuban families would tie up their horses burned to the ground in the Nineties. Lucky for us, proprietor Aurelio Rodriguez lifted it from the ashes, gave it a face-lift (preserving the rustic thatched roof), and turned it into a nonstop Latin music party for residents of the western part of the county and those willing to make the trip. Whether a DJ spins or a live band plays, the dance floor is usually packed with gyrating bodies until the wee hours. Not all of the best clubs are on the Beach, as La Covacha proves.

Readers´ Choice: Bongo´s Cuban Caf´

BEST NEIGHBORHOOD BAR/MIAMI BEACH Spire Bar The Hotel

801 Collins Avenue

Miami Beach

305-531-2222 At the rooftop bar designed by Todd Oldham, electronic cocktails glow with the luminescence of the old Tiffany Hotel’s neon sign. Allow your eyes to slowly scan the entire landscape, from the calm Atlantic to the skyscrapers growing like saw grass along Brickell and Biscayne — a breathtaking panorama, especially at sunset. And the view of the charming Art Deco neighborhood below is downright heartwarming. Sophisticated but casual, grand but intimate, chic but welcoming — this place makes for an exquisite package. It’s the perfect spot for locals to take their out-of-town guests — the ones they really like anyway.

Readers´ Choice: The Abbey

Terri Weisberg is an easygoing, gentle woman who takes her profession seriously: “Years ago I worked at a little Irish place on the Beach called Kelly’s, and one of my co-workers at the time was named Best Bartender by the New Times. I thought to myself, Wow, it would be so great to have that honor someday.”

Weisberg can now be found either behind the bar or on the floor at Flanigan’s Seafood Bar and Grill in Coconut Grove. She also makes special appearances at other Flanigan’s locations around South Florida to train newcomers to the world of mixology.

But her manner, while often emulated, can’t be duplicated. Slightly daffy but ever so attentive and kind, Weisberg combines a salt-of-the-earth tranquility with the keen skills of observation only someone with many years in the tavern trade — nearly 30 — can come by.

Best sports bar in Miami: Flanigan’s Seafood Bar and Grill in Coconut Grove.

Best reason to live in Miami: Fun in the sun. We’ve got the best weather (most of the time), and there’s always something happening for everybody.

Best cheap thrill: Going window shopping at one of our many malls.

Best not-so-cheap thrill: Not going window shopping at one of our many malls. I can’t seem to get out of a mall without spending $200 or more. I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have very much time off.

Best beer on tap: Yuengling. It’s America’s oldest brewery, established in 1829 in Pottsville, Pennsylvania.

Best place to get away from it all: Miccosukee Resort & Gaming. You’re in Florida but you’re not.

What entertainment and relaxation trends do you forecast for the year 2015? There will be a new stadium for the Florida Marlins; there should be one well before 2015. There will be lots more indoor/outdoor restaurants on Miami Beach with great views of both the ocean and the beautiful city of Miami.

BEST CLUB MIX El Clique 1252 Coral Way

Miami

305-860-5360 A little gem tucked in where Coral Way forms a triangle with SW Third and Twelfth avenues, this place used to be a gay bar called the Eagle. But now it’s a magnet for young, hip, Spanglish Miami. The crowd is a smooth blend of artists, musicians, and the cool kids who navigate the scenes at venues as varied as I/O, the District, Transit Lounge, and Hoy Como Ayer. However, the particular mix on a given night depends largely on the entertainment, which can range from trance to tango to an anything-goes open-mike night. Sometimes the crowd is older and more old-school Latino. The bartenders are friendly; the tapas are another magnet. When the place gets full, the parking lot becomes an overflow dining room.

BEST PLACE TO PLAY DARTS Abbey Brewing Company 1115 Sixteenth Street

Miami Beach

305-538-8110 A crowded, dim beer bar may seem like an odd choice, but we’re assuming you’re not looking to play championship darts. Few beach bars are more collegial than the Abbey, which is unpretentious and friendly without attracting hordes of frat boys and hoes, and playing darts is all about such communal spirit. Two pluses: The dart board’s location makes players unofficial doormen, so you might make a few friends, and the beer-and-wine-only alcohol selection ensures a significant time lag between arrival and alcohol-induced darts-related injuries.

Before all the hoopla over slot machines, one place was making winners out of the locals by washing down their gambling needs with their choice of alcohol. Every Sunday and Tuesday from 9:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m. patrons can order anything they desire and then leave the bill to the whim of the fates. Just walk right up to the bar and order an expensive shot or whatever you prefer. The bartender will pull out a coin and flip it. Call it in the air. If you guess right, the drink is free. Aside from the fact that it’s possible to go the entire night without dropping a dime, this idea keeps the folks coming back for their chance at that big score. The big winners are always easy to spot. They tend to be blasted beyond coherence.

You’re the kind of person who owns a boat instead of a turntable. Your favorite pastimes are fishing and baseball, not wine tasting and yoga. You prefer cooked meat to raw fish. You think house is something to live in, not something to dance to. In other words, you’d rather drink a six-pack at home in your underwear than subject yourself to the “fashionable” bars and clubs in this town. Well throw on some jeans, buddy, because Shuckers has an empty barstool with your name on it. This may be the last place in the north county where you can park your truck öround the back for free, sit outside on the water, enjoy a cold beer with a burger and fries, and listen to some good old-fashioned rock and roll. No covers. No DJs. No club kids. No velvet ropes. Just your new favorite neighborhood bar.

It’s been around for only a few years, but the Magnum Lounge has a lived-in feel. It’s dark and homey, and it comfortably pulls off a combination of gay-bar and restaurant atmospherics. If any one element does this trick, it’s definitely the piano, which sits between the two halves of the lounge. This is a place where you’re likely to see an Elvis Costello look-alike sipping his red wine and mooning over the bartender, despite the adorable object’s questionable taste in tattoos. Across the bar a pretty woman picks idly through a dish of mixed nuts as a man, much too old for her, whispers eagerly into her ear. As the ice melts in your third drink, you will perhaps reflect on your own poor taste in men, which runs to early Brando — gorgeous, tortured, distant. Never mind. Listen as piano man Walter Lena delivers a campy rendition of “New York, New York,” drawing a smattering of applause. “Thank you, music lovers,” he replies cattily. “Screw the rest.” Good advice, dear friend, in so many situations. Each night offers a different player and sometimes an additional singer, but generally, if the spirit moves you to torment fellow patrons with a Broadway number, no one will stop you. Thursdays in particular are popular evenings for aspiring crooners and drunken sing-alongs.

Pull up a stool and dig the story of a Miami girl, Isabel Aguero, who loved to travel the world. She ventured far and wide, through towns and cities, seeing new places and faces, always meeting interesting people along the way. And when she came to a new place, she would park herself at the local pub and make friends, her favorite thing of all. So when Aguero wound up back in Miami, she set out to re-create the kind of convivial watering holes she encountered on her travels. She fixed up a barely used warehouse just west of Brickell and a block south of Tobacco Road, built a long wooden bar in the center, and through her own warmth and charm proceeded to attract all types of people from all walks of life. Transit Lounge is the kind of clean, warmly lighted place that can make Miamians feel like members of a neighborhood, no small task indeed.

Wouldn’t it be great if the next time a Dolphins quarterback threw an interception you could give him your two cents on the subject? What if you could challenge the Heat’s Eddie Jones to a shooting contest and then go dance with him to the beats of a WMC DJ spinning live? Well, sports fans, there’s a place you can actually do such things, which — in addition to its serendipitous location down the street from Gold Rush (for those hard times after a loss) — raises the question: Why go to any other sports bar just to watch the pros on TV? At this place they actually show up, in person. Aside from the fact that it’s relatively easy to spot your favorite athlete chugging some brew and scratching his parts, Players is open 24 hours on weekends (in case you like 4:00 a.m. cricket), all the TV sets (and there are plenty of them) are high-definition, and pool and air hockey tables abound. The food isn’t half bad either.

Readers´ Choice: Flanigan´s Seafood Bar and Grill

Maybe it’s the giant photos of movie stars on the walls, the pretty women at the bar, or the Sinatra oozing out of the speakers, but the Biltmore Lounge seems like it would be more at home in Hollywood (California, that is) than Coral Gables. Tucked inside the Biltmore Hotel, it’s a quiet, sophisticated place for rat-packish boozers to throw back a few classy cocktails. The service is worthy of the fattest cats, and there’s always a room upstairs for those who get lucky or just need to crash after a few too many.

It’s Sunday night and you’re still suffering from a wicked hangover. You need food, water, and a little hair of the dog. The best cure for the cocktail flu is a bloody mary with enough spice to give those queasies a kick in the ass. Select your favorite vodka, say how spicy you want it, and you’ll be served a superior beverage with a heaping dose of sympathy. And the price is right ($1.99 for well; $4.49 for Grey Goose) for someone who spent Saturday night buying scores of drinks, yet didn’t score one phone number.

Under the able musical direction of bassist Don Wilner, Upstairs at the Van Dyke remains Miami’s premier jazz club. No other venue comes close in terms of consistency — 365 days per year. (Check the Website for calendars and newsletters.) And in terms of consistently high quality, nothing can match the club’s rotating cast of regulars: Wilner, Mike Orta, Rose Max, Wendy Pedersen, Goetz Kujack, Sammy Figueroa, Turk Mauro, José Negroni. If they’re not onstage, you’ll likely find a well-known visiting artist. Among those Wilner has brought to the comfortable room above Mark Soyka’s landmark café: John Abercrombie, Eric Alexander, Harry Allen, Mose Allison, Freddy Cole, George Coleman, Kenny Drew, Eddie Henderson, John Hicks, Tania Maria, James Moody, Mark Murphy, Houston Person, Norman Simmons, Grady Tate, Toots Thielemans, and Cedar Walton.

Everyone knows that a hotel party is the hippest recreational activity in Miami. Just check out the pages of People and InStyle and you’ll see celebrities lifting cocktails to the camera while sitting on comfy sofas and enjoying the opulence and verve of South Beach’s finest hotels. You too can sit among the pulchritudinous stars while sipping mango mojitos, cosmopolitans, or vanilla rum and Cokes in the recently reopened Hotel Victor. Romantic lighting, sexy bartenders, and a mesmerizing illuminated tank filled with live jellyfish make the V Bar and Lounge the swanky place to be.

Readers´ Choice: Fox´s Sherron Inn

With the exception of Khaled’s frequent cameos in Fat Joe’s music videos, Irie may be the only local jock who regularly makes it onto network television, which he does via his gig as the official DJ for the Miami Heat during its home games. A more visceral place to hear Irie is at a club, and there are plenty of opportunities for such an experience. His resident appearances at the Hotel Astor on Tuesdays, at Oxygen Lounge on Wednesdays, and at Opium Garden on Sundays burn ears and get feet smoking. He cuts and scratches records with a dexterity atypical of most club DJs: He doesn’t just spin records, he performs with them, creating a vinyl solution for those who demand something above the norm from their turntablists.

Readers´ Choice: Matt Cash

Thirty well-kept professional-size tables, fair drink prices, an excellent jukebox, and low prices — $10 per hour (for the table, not per person) for two players, $12 per hour for three — are all good reasons to shoot stick at this FIU-adjacent pool hall. Where most places either have cheap prices and terrible equipment (ripped felt, bent cues) or top-notch equipment accompanied by outrageous prices, New Wave strikes the right balance. Plus you can watch the viejos shoot true billiards on the six pocketless tables in the center of the room.

The best VIP rooms are exclusive, far removed from the peasants, and exude cool at all times. In the middle of the unending mayhem here stands a big yellow school bus that serves as the presidential suite, and it meets all of the above criteria. It’s functional too. The bus windows are well within eyeshot of promoter Josh Menendez as he does his thing, and from the safety of the school zone, you can look down upon the peons as they become endlessly intertwined with each other. On any given Revolver Friday, the club becomes jammed with party people, becoming so cramped that unless you have the clout to hitch a ride on the bus, you’ll be spilling drinks, or having drinks spilled on you, all night. But if you’re a true playa who’s literally on the bus, it’s nothing but fine tablecloths, mood lighting, and champagne, baby.

The Bar is the best of both bar worlds. Dark and cool even at midday and absolutely shadowed at night, it’s a great place to drown sorrow or joy in a shot glass of bourbon accompanied by one of the Bar’s many boutique beers. But Giralda Avenue is in Coral Gables, after all, and if you’re going to have an establishment there, you might as well give the rich folk something to throw their cash at. The Bar’s food is bar food, but not of the microwaved-mozzarella-stick variety. It is inexpensive enough for the budget-conscious drinker and fine enough for the discerning bourgeois palate. Chicken tenders, for instance, are strips of chicken breast dipped in a homemade spicy breading and deep fried until crisp. They taste a lot like homemade fried chicken and absolutely nothing like the warmed-over, limp fingers that most bars serve, and you get a plateful (between four and six strips usually) for six bucks. The six-dollar burgers are a steal as well — juicy lumps of high-quality meat actually cooked to order (as opposed to many bars, where the waitress politely asks how you’d like your burger cooked and returns with something akin to a blackened-carbon sandwich) and dressed any way you like. The eight-dollar steak sandwich — a healthy slab of grilled London broil topped with melted provolone on a hunk of French bread — couldn’t be better. The menu is pretty extensive, with plenty of sandwich and salad options and the requisite bar-food appetizers, all of them better than you’re likely to find at your neighborhood watering hole.

From the truly pickled to neighborhood families, denizens of the southern stretch from Naranja to Homestead partake in pitchers and wings and fresh fish fillets daily at Keg South. The bar serves exclusively beer and wine, and the most exotic brew on tap is Heineken, but all mugs of beer cost only two dollars. The place can get crowded on weekends and at dinnertime, a sure sign they’re doing something right in the kitchen (food comes nestled in wax paper inside plastic baskets — try the fried green tomato appetizer for five dollars or the excellent seven-dollar burger platters). Regular old-timers sit at the bar and on wood benches every afternoon, some of them shooting pool and playing sad old country songs on the jukebox.

Readers´ Choice: Fox´s Sherron Inn

Walking into Duffy’s Tavern is like entering some kind of marvelous Twilight Zone, where the whole place seems able to transform, to transcend time and space, according to the whims of the computerized jukebox that rests unobtrusively against a wall near the bar. According to owner Wayne Russell, the box is stocked with about 2000 songs. “Some I like, some I don’t like. But mostly rock,” he explains. An obscure track from Metallica’s thrash classic Kill ‘Em All segues into a disconcertingly jaunty ode to the Emerald Isle, “Irish Jaunting Car,” by Leo McCaffrey. The regulars don’t bat an eye, and looking around at the Irish collectibles — the ceaseless digital countdown to St. Patrick’s Day, the Guinness brewerania, and shillelaghs (knobby Irish walking sticks dangling from the ceiling amid ornate steins and ancient beer bottles) — the jig feels oddly appropriate. After a moment of rest — chatter, the clink of glasses, and the shouting of sports announcers from twenty TV sets filling the void — the opening strains of Led Zeppelin’s “Goin’ to California” twinkle in the background. The bartender brings you another ale, the customers continue on their individual journeys to pleasant intoxication, and Zeppelin flows into Aretha Franklin’s shimmering soul song “Ain’t No Way.” Way.

Readers´ Choice: Fox´s Sherron Inn

There’s something eerie about American Legion Post No. 29 at night. The bar, a huge sunken square that could probably fit 60 people, is almost always empty. The comfortable couches, unused. The pool table and dart board, dormant. Often the only person in the place is the bartender, watching the big-screen TV set alone. This makes sense only in Miami, where people wait in line to get into swanky clubs with overpriced drinks rather than chill at an inexpensive watering hole like the Legion. For instance, during happy hour at the American Legion (5:00 to 9:00 p.m. every weekday), six dollars gets you two bottles of Bud and a shot of Jack. At most SoBe spots, you’re lucky if six bucks gets you a Red Stripe and a condescending sneer from the bartender.

Yes, all the fabulous boys go to Twist and other South Beach haunts we’ve given this award to time and again. But for those looking for a real Miami experience, Azucar is fantastic. It’s kind of a down-and-dirty muy Cubano salsa club/gay bar located on a quiet road just south of Coral Way. It reveals its origins as a former disco palace with a wide open dance floor on which everyone in the house jumps the moment the drag shows are finished. The club promotes its “Crazy Fridays” and “Arroz con Mango” Saturdays, as well as a ladies’ night Wednesdays. The shows (mostly in Spanish) alone are worth the price of admission, generally five or ten dollars. The Sunday-night cabaret show is pure draggy camp mixed with a few occasional elements such as a couple of ballet dancers performing a pas de deux or a beyond risqué burlesque number performed by a woman in her seventies.

Readers´ Choice: Score

Mario Sopena’s vision created the chillest place on South Beach. Hassle free and far enough from the glitterati of Washington Avenue, it attracted the hottest DJs thanks to the creative bookings of Michael Storms. Notable personalities like Rudolph Piper, Jon Cowan, and Sami Stormo helped spread the word, and for a time it seemed Nerve was on its way to earning a place among the South Beach standards with its dance-friendly and relaxed attitude. Then, after some discord behind closed doors, lawsuits over equity, and the demise of its neighbor Rain, Nerve began to unravel. Nerve tried to reinvent itself as an exclusive joint for big spenders, but it was too late. The pulse of the venue slowed to a still until it finally vanished into the clubland void. RIP Nerve Lounge.

The District and its competitor, Grass, are breathing new life into the Design District after the sun goes down. While Grass is a hoity-toity affair with a velvet rope, the District has forgone the staid doorman and the cover charge in favor of a more welcoming vibe. Walk through its doors and into the courtyard on any given evening and you’ll find a vast array of people socializing around the tiled fountain or inside at the stunning glass bar as a DJ spins funky music in the background. The District is also a restaurant, so imbibers can fill up on selections from a full menu that features appetizers, killer salads, and entrées. But if you stroll in for the drinks and the people, you’ll find an easy comfort. This is a neighborhood bar, just a classier version than most.

Readers´ Choice: Tobacco Road

Amy Alonso, Yesi Leon, Alison Burgos, and Julie Garrity are four very involved lesbians. Not in the way that every hot-blooded, horny man has wet dreams about, but rather in a collaborative effort to mix sexy fun with legitimate issues concerning their lifestyles. Their parties, which include Cherry Pie, Fever at Soho Lounge, and the annual White Party at Nikki Beach, draw huge crowds of women who love women. Unlike the usual suspects in clubland, their events are much more than simply a flesh fest. In conjunction with the Miami-Dade Gay & Lesbian Chamber of Commerce, they organize philanthropic and civic events like the Women’s Networker monthly meeting, which is held at a new happy-hour location every month. They raise money and awareness for a bevy of charitable causes.

Alas, the era of the reggae club is over. Even though Miami certainly has a large enough Caribbean population to support a club entirely devoted to island music, few establishments want to put all of their eggs in that particular basket. For those craving the dancehall vibe, it’s all about hot reggae nights at unexpected, and in some cases hard-to-find, locations. Case in point, Big Fish. “We wanted to create something that was as close to being back in the islands as possible. Literally the first flyer we did was a half page, and the whole back of it was directions,” laughs Kevin Palmer, the director of events for the crew that puts these randomly scheduled Caribbean fetes, called Blink, together. The idea has grown so large that it has been exported to the land that inspired it. “We’ve taken it to Jamaica, and it’s one of the biggest parties there. A lot of people travel back and forth for the parties,” Palmer says. Blink has earned this dedicated following by changing themes for every party. Blink All White called for uniformly pale attire; Blink Pimps & Hoes brought crazy costumes out of the closet; and Blink Colors’s attendees were asked to sport the Rasta colors of red, green, and gold. Every second Saturday of each month, Big Phat Fish at Big Fish delivers the latest in reggae and soca. Named after calypso superstar Machel Montano’s hit song, this party is like Blink’s younger Trinidadian cousin.

Pinball is a nostalgic arcade game, one that really can’t be fully appreciated by those who grew up in the age of Atari or beyond. It is therefore best played in an atmosphere that doesn’t boast virtual reality goggles and video games that require the hand-eye coordination of a fighter pilot. Leave the PlayStation generation to duke it out over Halo at Gameworks, because playing pinball in a three-story coliseum of sensory and technology overload is like ordering mashed potatoes at Nobu and expecting them to taste like Mom’s. When it comes to intense flipper action, Westchester institution Bird Bowl keeps it real. Those who come to spend their hard-earned quarters will usually skip the bowling and head directly to the bing-bing of the arcade, which boasts classic video games, air hockey, and, of course, the only arcade machine ever to spawn a rock opera.

It’s not easy being young and beautiful in South Beach during the season. With a dozen modeling agencies plugging their girls and guys, the competition for those lucrative posing jobs can be intense. Luckily people like promoter Tommy Pooch and places like the Metro Kitchen & Bar at the Astor aim to make the lives of the flawless-skin set a little easier. Tuesday night’s hip-hop dinner party, now entering its second year, draws models from Wilhelmina, Next, Elite, and other agencies in packs, all of them eager to brush up against celebrities like Colin Farrell and Ashton Kutcher for that potential career bump. And Pooch makes sure the girls stick around. “We always take care of the models,” he says. The result is a bounty of beauty. The good-looking may not look at you, but hey, it’s still fun to look at them.

To-do list:

Monday: 7:00 a.m.: Drop the kids off at day care. 7:30: Hit the gym. 8:00: Shower and change into work clothes. 8:30: Read the paper while stuck in traffic on I-95. 9:00: Big meeting. 10:00: Get yelled at by boss. 11:00: Woo clients. Noon: Lunch meeting. 1:00 p.m.: Organize reports. 3:00: Meet with lawyers. 4:00: Dentist appointment. 5:30: Pick up the kids. 6:30: Prep dinner. 7:30: Balance checkbook.

Tuesday: 7:00 a.m.: Drop kids at day care. 7:30: Gym. 8:00: Shower and change. 8:30: Read the paper while stuck in traffic on 836. 9:00: Cold-call clients. 10:00: Yell back at boss. 11:00: Board meeting. Noon: Lunch meeting. 1:00 p.m.: Organize reports. 3:00: Meet with more lawyers. 4:00: Doctor appointment. 5:30: Pick up kids. 6:30: Dinner.

Wednesday: 7:00 a.m.: Drop the kids off. 7:30: Gym. 8:00: Shower, change. 8:30: Read the paper while stuck in traffic. 9:00: Paperwork. 10:00: Get yelled at by boss again. 11:00: Woo more clients. Noon: Lunch meeting. 1:00 p.m.: Organize reports. 3:00: Meet with lawyers. 4:00: Deposit money in the bank. 5:30: Pick up kids. 6:30: Prep dinner.

Thursday: 7:00 – 10:00 a.m.: The usual. 10:00: Threaten to quit. 11:00 a.m. – 3:00 p.m.: Same old same old. 3:00: Meet with bankers. 5:30: Kids. 6:30: Dinner.

Friday: 7:00 – 11:00 a.m.: Same-a same-a: 11:00: Negotiate raise. 4:00 p.m.: Refill Viagra script. 5:00: JohnMartin’s happy hour.

Saturday: Recover from hangover.

Sunday: Recover from hangover.

A librarian walks into a bar. She is looking for the best martini and an even better man. Sexy and sophisticated is the way she wants her martini and her mate. She scans the bar and finds an empty seat next to a handsome gentleman. They smile and the young bartender asks what she’d like. A girl likes an attentive bartender who won’t keep her waiting and gives her three olives without even asking, and the Rose Bar delivers. They take the time to make a pristine martini that is cold, smooth, and with not a drop too much vermouth. She touches pinkies with the handsome gentleman as they reach for their martinis: hers a vodka (Grey Goose, $14) and his a traditional (Bombay Gin, $12). Did he call her a heathen? Doesn’t he know James Bond drinks vodka martinis? Bond would commend the Rose Bar for a martini shaken to perfection and a little cloudy with tiny bubbles. She tells him that shaking increases the antioxidant activity in the drink, which can reduce the risk of cataracts, strokes, and cardiovascular diseases. He is impressed with her mad librarian skills and forgives her for not drinking a real martini. Elegant lighting, glamorous clientele, and scintillating conversation with a handsome fellow makes the night a delicious chapter in the sexy librarian’s novel.

BEST NEIGHBORHOOD BAR/MIAMI BEACH Spire Bar The Hotel

801 Collins Avenue

Miami Beach

305-531-2222 At the rooftop bar designed by Todd Oldham, electronic cocktails glow with the luminescence of the old Tiffany Hotel’s neon sign. Allow your eyes to slowly scan the entire landscape, from the calm Atlantic to the skyscrapers growing like saw grass along Brickell and Biscayne — a breathtaking panorama, especially at sunset. And the view of the charming Art Deco neighborhood below is downright heartwarming. Sophisticated but casual, grand but intimate, chic but welcoming — this place makes for an exquisite package. It’s the perfect spot for locals to take their out-of-town guests — the ones they really like anyway.

Readers´ Choice: The Abbey

BEST ROCK CLUB I/O 30 NE Fourteenth Street

Miami

305-358-8007

www.iolounge.com People who want to enjoy live music must content themselves with I/O, Churchill’s Pub, and Tobacco Road. Of that trio, I/O, which opened in June 2003, is the young and fresh choice. In addition to the indie-rock heaven of its two Saturday-night affairs Poplife and Vice, the venue has featured everything from rock en español concerts featuring Bacilos and Volumen Cero to massive jams by rap legend KRS-One, the latter drawing so many people the place became a fire hazard. These days it offers the weekly Poplife and Vice shindigs, a monthly Goth party (Shattered Heart), and other recurring rock, electro, and hip-hop events — a little something for everybody.

Amika is the people’s nightclub, or the closest thing to that concept. The doormen have a relatively relaxed velvet-rope policy, packing the club with a smartly dressed but down-to-earth crowd. It features some of the city’s top DJs, including dance mixologists Stephan Luke and Cue on Sundays. Then there’s the electrifying vibe of the club itself: a pulsing light show that doesn’t completely overwhelm. The courteous staff doesn’t hurt at all. Amika provides a reminder that partying can include having your feet on the ground without having your nose in the air.

Readers´ Choice: crobar

Karaoke is like sushi, or country music, or George W. Bush: It’s strictly a matter of love or hate. But at Hooligan’s every Saturday night beginning at 11:00, Love conquers all. DJ Mark Love, that is, who hosts the karaoke party and opens up the microphone to would-be stars. Haters, as hard as you try to hide behind your cool veneer and your even cooler beer, you’ll be begging for a chance to join the fun before the night is over.

BEST POOLSIDE BAR The Raleigh Hotel 1775 Collins Avenue

Miami Beach

305-534-6300 Step poolside at the Raleigh Hotel and you’ll swear you’ve stepped into the 1940s: a quartet of guayabera-clad young Cuban men lounging on the patio, smoking cigars under a lazy ceiling fan. A server in crisp whites makes his way among tables that surround a gumbo limbo tree bejeweled with soft lamps hanging from its branches. Humphrey Bogart sits at the bar with a tumbler of scotch and a cigarette, while Esther Williams emerges from the spectacular fleur de lis-shaped pool. Okay, maybe not that last part, but there’s a certain tropical elegance going on at the Raleigh, a beautifully restored design by L. Murray Dixon, crafted at the height of his career. The scene here is relaxed and unassuming, with plenty of breathing room for the charm of dreaming about zoot suits and big bands.

Terri Weisberg is a tall woman, cresting six feet, with forearms to rival Rosie the Riveter. But it is Terri’s calm demeanor, facility with mixology, and all-around ‘tude that bring tranquility to the Flanigan’s in Coconut Grove. Like the legend of the wind and the sun, Terri coaxes, never threatens, and so, for a sports bar where the shots are poured generously and passions for football, baseball, and sometimes the UPN comedy series Girlfriends run high, patrons are enthusiastic but rarely rowdy. Terri keeps the kind of bar where a girl can, in total seriousness, pull up solo to the counter to read Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, drink a syrupy sweet cup of turquoise Hypnotiq, and expect not only not to be bugged by the dudes on the premises but lauded for her ability to eat French fries, watch the Notre Dame game, read, and converse at the same time. That’s just the kind of influence Terri has on the male species. But Terri wouldn’t be the best bartender in a town awash in every type of beer, wine, and spirits ever envisioned by Bacchus himself unless she really knew how to mix it up. Go ahead, bring in your bartender’s recipe book and see if you can stump Terri by calling for a purple eyeball on the beach or a soaking wet melon. Just be aware that when you receive a glass full of Jägermeister, peach schnapps, and Old Bushmills, you’re going to pay for it. Until recently Terri had a head of commandingly long coal-black hair stretching unfettered past her waist. One day Terri showed up for work, a charming bob tucked beneath her Flanigan’s visor. She had had her lovely mane lopped off, all nineteen inches of it, and donated the hair to make wigs for children undergoing chemotherapy. You really need to drink to that.

BEST NEIGHBORHOOD BAR/WEST Sports Grill 10005 Sunset Drive

Kendall

305-598-2227 The surest testament to a good neighborhood bar is whether locals actually frequent the place. For 17 years Sports Grill has been hosting families for lunch and dinner and bar patrons well into the night. The atmosphere is comfortable, featuring video games, picnic tables with wood benches, and plenty of cheap sports gimcrackery on the walls. The food is awesome, especially the bar-food triumvirate: burgers, wings, fries. The fries are homemade and tasty, and the burgers are high-quality, but the wings — Sports Grill is known for excellent wings without breading or excess grease. They are simple and delicious: chicken grilled (not fried) and served completely unadorned, with sauce on the side. Wing prices are also good: 16 pieces for $10; 25 pieces for $12.50. There is only one drawback: Sports Grill is so popular with families that the place is swarming with kids during the dinner hour. Then again, knee-huggers are an essential element of a neighborhood.

Readers´ Choice: Stampede Bar

BEST ONE-NIGHTER Bliss at Jade 1766 Bay Road

Miami Beach

305-244-5787

www.theblissclub.com The Madonna/whore complex dictates that individuals who succumb to it expect their distaff mates to exhibit demure qualities in public but devilish attributes in the bedroom. Each month the Bliss Club throws an erotic theme party at Jade that serves as the perfect fit for that dichotomy. In a socially acceptable atmosphere, upscale, professional women let loose their purity like it was prom night and, surprisingly, the men behave. Think of it as Swinging 101 for the curious, without the guilty conscience from bangin’ a stranger. Carnal pleasures abound, but it’s the voyeur who will be most satisfied. Though the themes are always changing, one of the more sultry ones this year was White Bliss, where the main garb was itty-bitty white string. One femme simply dabbed white correction fluid over her nipples; another went for the Full Monty and wore nothing but body paint. The emphasis is on the ladies, but the guys get in on the fun too, sometimes coming as colorful pimps or, as happened at Jungle Bliss, busting out exotic snakes.

Face it — on any night, any nimrod can talk good enough game to get past even the most discriminating doorman. Veteran night owls are sick to death of elbowing Lil Jon off the sidewalk on Washington Avenue and shoving past Katrina Campins to get to the free Grey Goose bar at the National. Celebrity-hosted parties in public are over. What’s really cool is to have friends, or at least acquaintances, who will invite you into their homes. There you can listen to whatever music you like, pour your own free drinks, and avoid all those annoying famous people. And going inside satisfies those voyeuristic urges as well, without the Plexiglas barrier. “The Miami of the moment is all about price per square foot,” says designer and consultant Russell Hassell, who maintains residences in Manhattan as well as Miami Beach. “People want to see what Enrique bought for one million three years ago and sold for seven million today as validation for their own purchase of the half-million-dollar, loftlike, 655-square-foot condo with soaring eight-foot ceilings and glamorous sunset views of the MacArthur Causeway.” Besides, Hassell adds, “House parties appeal to the suburban adolescent in all of us. The sight of all those cars on rich people’s lawns is very Fast Times at Ridgemont High, only with valet parking.”

BEST LATIN CLUB La Covacha 10730 NW 25th Street

Doral

305-594-3717

www.lacovacha.com Miami’s best Latin club also has a very colorful history. What used to be a rural roadhouse where Cuban families would tie up their horses burned to the ground in the Nineties. Lucky for us, proprietor Aurelio Rodriguez lifted it from the ashes, gave it a face-lift (preserving the rustic thatched roof), and turned it into a nonstop Latin music party for residents of the western part of the county and those willing to make the trip. Whether a DJ spins or a live band plays, the dance floor is usually packed with gyrating bodies until the wee hours. Not all of the best clubs are on the Beach, as La Covacha proves.

Readers´ Choice: Bongo´s Cuban Caf´

Terri Weisberg is an easygoing, gentle woman who takes her profession seriously: “Years ago I worked at a little Irish place on the Beach called Kelly’s, and one of my co-workers at the time was named Best Bartender by the New Times. I thought to myself, Wow, it would be so great to have that honor someday.”

Weisberg can now be found either behind the bar or on the floor at Flanigan’s Seafood Bar and Grill in Coconut Grove. She also makes special appearances at other Flanigan’s locations around South Florida to train newcomers to the world of mixology.

But her manner, while often emulated, can’t be duplicated. Slightly daffy but ever so attentive and kind, Weisberg combines a salt-of-the-earth tranquility with the keen skills of observation only someone with many years in the tavern trade — nearly 30 — can come by.

Best sports bar in Miami: Flanigan’s Seafood Bar and Grill in Coconut Grove.

Best reason to live in Miami: Fun in the sun. We’ve got the best weather (most of the time), and there’s always something happening for everybody.

Best cheap thrill: Going window shopping at one of our many malls.

Best not-so-cheap thrill: Not going window shopping at one of our many malls. I can’t seem to get out of a mall without spending $200 or more. I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have very much time off.

Best beer on tap: Yuengling. It’s America’s oldest brewery, established in 1829 in Pottsville, Pennsylvania.

Best place to get away from it all: Miccosukee Resort & Gaming. You’re in Florida but you’re not.

What entertainment and relaxation trends do you forecast for the year 2015? There will be a new stadium for the Florida Marlins; there should be one well before 2015. There will be lots more indoor/outdoor restaurants on Miami Beach with great views of both the ocean and the beautiful city of Miami.

BEST CLUB MIX El Clique 1252 Coral Way

Miami

305-860-5360 A little gem tucked in where Coral Way forms a triangle with SW Third and Twelfth avenues, this place used to be a gay bar called the Eagle. But now it’s a magnet for young, hip, Spanglish Miami. The crowd is a smooth blend of artists, musicians, and the cool kids who navigate the scenes at venues as varied as I/O, the District, Transit Lounge, and Hoy Como Ayer. However, the particular mix on a given night depends largely on the entertainment, which can range from trance to tango to an anything-goes open-mike night. Sometimes the crowd is older and more old-school Latino. The bartenders are friendly; the tapas are another magnet. When the place gets full, the parking lot becomes an overflow dining room.

BEST PLACE TO PLAY DARTS Abbey Brewing Company 1115 Sixteenth Street

Miami Beach

305-538-8110 A crowded, dim beer bar may seem like an odd choice, but we’re assuming you’re not looking to play championship darts. Few beach bars are more collegial than the Abbey, which is unpretentious and friendly without attracting hordes of frat boys and hoes, and playing darts is all about such communal spirit. Two pluses: The dart board’s location makes players unofficial doormen, so you might make a few friends, and the beer-and-wine-only alcohol selection ensures a significant time lag between arrival and alcohol-induced darts-related injuries.

Before all the hoopla over slot machines, one place was making winners out of the locals by washing down their gambling needs with their choice of alcohol. Every Sunday and Tuesday from 9:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m. patrons can order anything they desire and then leave the bill to the whim of the fates. Just walk right up to the bar and order an expensive shot or whatever you prefer. The bartender will pull out a coin and flip it. Call it in the air. If you guess right, the drink is free. Aside from the fact that it’s possible to go the entire night without dropping a dime, this idea keeps the folks coming back for their chance at that big score. The big winners are always easy to spot. They tend to be blasted beyond coherence.

You’re the kind of person who owns a boat instead of a turntable. Your favorite pastimes are fishing and baseball, not wine tasting and yoga. You prefer cooked meat to raw fish. You think house is something to live in, not something to dance to. In other words, you’d rather drink a six-pack at home in your underwear than subject yourself to the “fashionable” bars and clubs in this town. Well throw on some jeans, buddy, because Shuckers has an empty barstool with your name on it. This may be the last place in the north county where you can park your truck öround the back for free, sit outside on the water, enjoy a cold beer with a burger and fries, and listen to some good old-fashioned rock and roll. No covers. No DJs. No club kids. No velvet ropes. Just your new favorite neighborhood bar.

It’s been around for only a few years, but the Magnum Lounge has a lived-in feel. It’s dark and homey, and it comfortably pulls off a combination of gay-bar and restaurant atmospherics. If any one element does this trick, it’s definitely the piano, which sits between the two halves of the lounge. This is a place where you’re likely to see an Elvis Costello look-alike sipping his red wine and mooning over the bartender, despite the adorable object’s questionable taste in tattoos. Across the bar a pretty woman picks idly through a dish of mixed nuts as a man, much too old for her, whispers eagerly into her ear. As the ice melts in your third drink, you will perhaps reflect on your own poor taste in men, which runs to early Brando — gorgeous, tortured, distant. Never mind. Listen as piano man Walter Lena delivers a campy rendition of “New York, New York,” drawing a smattering of applause. “Thank you, music lovers,” he replies cattily. “Screw the rest.” Good advice, dear friend, in so many situations. Each night offers a different player and sometimes an additional singer, but generally, if the spirit moves you to torment fellow patrons with a Broadway number, no one will stop you. Thursdays in particular are popular evenings for aspiring crooners and drunken sing-alongs.

Pull up a stool and dig the story of a Miami girl, Isabel Aguero, who loved to travel the world. She ventured far and wide, through towns and cities, seeing new places and faces, always meeting interesting people along the way. And when she came to a new place, she would park herself at the local pub and make friends, her favorite thing of all. So when Aguero wound up back in Miami, she set out to re-create the kind of convivial watering holes she encountered on her travels. She fixed up a barely used warehouse just west of Brickell and a block south of Tobacco Road, built a long wooden bar in the center, and through her own warmth and charm proceeded to attract all types of people from all walks of life. Transit Lounge is the kind of clean, warmly lighted place that can make Miamians feel like members of a neighborhood, no small task indeed.

Wouldn’t it be great if the next time a Dolphins quarterback threw an interception you could give him your two cents on the subject? What if you could challenge the Heat’s Eddie Jones to a shooting contest and then go dance with him to the beats of a WMC DJ spinning live? Well, sports fans, there’s a place you can actually do such things, which — in addition to its serendipitous location down the street from Gold Rush (for those hard times after a loss) — raises the question: Why go to any other sports bar just to watch the pros on TV? At this place they actually show up, in person. Aside from the fact that it’s relatively easy to spot your favorite athlete chugging some brew and scratching his parts, Players is open 24 hours on weekends (in case you like 4:00 a.m. cricket), all the TV sets (and there are plenty of them) are high-definition, and pool and air hockey tables abound. The food isn’t half bad either.

Readers´ Choice: Flanigan´s Seafood Bar and Grill

Maybe it’s the giant photos of movie stars on the walls, the pretty women at the bar, or the Sinatra oozing out of the speakers, but the Biltmore Lounge seems like it would be more at home in Hollywood (California, that is) than Coral Gables. Tucked inside the Biltmore Hotel, it’s a quiet, sophisticated place for rat-packish boozers to throw back a few classy cocktails. The service is worthy of the fattest cats, and there’s always a room upstairs for those who get lucky or just need to crash after a few too many.