Few powerboat rental places come close to the captain's prices, and those that do, usually bump up their rates for weekends or offer rundown craft. At Captain Joe's, you have your choice of seven boats — from a twenty-foot Four Winds runabout with room for eight people, to a 40-foot Tiara with teak decks and massive outboards. Two hours on the twenty-footer, which is equipped with a 150-horsepower outboard, will set you back $130. A four-hour tour on the same boat costs $272, and an entire day on the water goes for $395. That's less than $60 per person for a party of six. Shit, even with the extra fee for gas and taxes, it's not much more than a couple of drinks and a bland steak at some waterfront joint. If you can't be bothered with navigation, you can hire a captain for $30 an hour, take a sightseeing tour, or rent one of the significantly more expensive charter options, which include a 73-foot yacht with room for 50.

Tarpoon Dive Center's Hialeah store is pretty much where diving began in Miami. Opened in 1952 (and in its current building since 1956), The 'Poon has helped generations of locals find their way to the silent world just offshore. Its founder, the late Mike Kevorkian, was a legend in the underwater education world. He produced hundreds of live marine biology-oriented TV programs for Miami's WPBT Channel 2, developed the first CO2 spear gun, and helped make possible one of Jacques Cousteau's first U.S. public appearances. Kevorkian's daughters, Valerie and Stephanie, continue the tradition. Their staff of highly experienced, knowledgeable divers will talk you through your purchase, steer you to a class (there are regular sessions held in the heated indoor pool, available in English, Spanish, or Portuguese, for everyone from novices to assistant instructors), or simply give you good tips on where to dive. Recent deals included a three-millimeter-thick full wetsuit for $101 and an underwater digital camera set marked down from $770 to $530.Tarpoon also has a store at the Miami Beach Marina, feet from where it docks its own 46-foot custom-built dive boat.

It's just past midnight on Saturday and you're about to bring your date back to your place for, you know, a drink. Only your liquor cabinet is empty and your date is one of those "I don't do beer" types. What's a horny toad to doç The answer is illuminated by a neon sign of tipping bottles — the blue glow above Tivoli Liquors. While most pansy liquor stores close at midnight on weekends, Tivoli is open seven days a week till 2:00 a.m. The wide selection of alcohol includes all the basics (Jack Daniel's, Hennessy, Jägermeister, Captain Morgan, Grey Goose, and so on) but also offers an assortment of fine Spanish wines. There are obscure brands like Palacio de Oro for just $6.99, while a bottle of Emilio Moro will set more cultivated winos back a solid $30.99. For imbibers on a budget, get a mild bang for your buck with a $3.99 bottle of Sidra el Gaitero.

It's not one of those wine warehouses that took over a defunct Winn Dixie and still has a row of checkout registers up front. And it's not one of those trendy storefronts that stock only Bordeaux and other cocky wines that cost three figures. No, this little brick-walled bistro lets you eat and drink — and take home a bottle of that drink — without signing over your weekly paycheck. Ask for Florent, the owner and your new best friend. Name a price range and a style. Florent will pull just the perfect bottle down from his expansive wall, from the very cheap to the very pricey. If you're not in a rush, find a quiet table and plunk down a modest corkage fee. Then order yourself a cheese plate or a nice soup, or bum out on the awesome housemade bread. Raise your glass to the colorful verve of this sassy Parisian dilettante. He has been everywhere, has seen everything, and commands a certain I don't know what that will have you ordering another bottle. Or take one home for the kids.

Listen up, all you wimps who lack the backbone to quit smoking. Sure, you don't have a pack of cigarettes lying around the house. It will only tempt you. But sometimes you just need a fix. Whaddya doç You can find loosies in any New York bodega or Philly Chinese carryout, but Miami is well, weird. So here you have to head for the Alton Food Plaza, which is the local go-to spot for pathetic peeps. Try the Marlboro Lights for just 25 cents — and pick up some frozen mozzarella sticks or empanadas while you're at it.

Evelio Guelmes, age 83, is steeped in the knowledge of what it takes to create a robust, full-bodied cigar. The master, who crafted his own brand of cheroot, El Turco, in Carbaiguan, Cuba, is one of eight veteran roleros — with a combined 150 years of tobacco-twisting experience — who work their nimble-fingered magic at El Titan de Bronze Cigar Factory in Little Havana. Run by Don Carlos Covis and his clan, the factory manufactures a line of quality stogies on site using a sublime mix of the aromatic leaf from the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua, Honduras, North America, Indonesia, and Brazil. Popular brands include La Herencia Cubana, El Titan de Bronze, and Gran Reserva — and range in price from $3.50 to $5.25 for a single cigar to $85 to $120 per box. For those looking to spark up a stick offering earthy, optimal flavor and a sweet draw, these babies do the trick.

At night this space is an empty lot, desolate and spooky. By day it's a thriving mini farmer's market in the middle of bustling Little Haiti, usually staffed by Bernadette, a large Haitian woman who doesn't speak English but has a mile-wide smile. She and a few other Haitians sit under umbrellas and sell produce straight from Homestead out of the back of a van. Sometimes they stack crates of produce on tables, sometimes not. Onions, peppers, and muddy-looking root vegetable offerings come and go, but plump papayas, sweet pineapples, and tall stalks of sugarcane are mainstays. Occasionally Bernadette fires up a grill and roasts corn ears to sell, and another woman comes by to peddle housedresses. Pineapples go for around $3 to $4 (as opposed to $5 to $7 at Publix and Whole Foods), but feel free to haggle. Don't be surprised if you get your final tally in Kreyol — that's part of the joy and adventure of Miami, and of buying fruit out of the back of a van.

The warehouse and wholesale food district on NW Twelfth Avenue between Twentieth and 29th streets features some pretty apocalyptic shopping scenes — tubes of ground chuck longer and fatter than human legs, twenty-foot freezers, cans that look like steamrollers, and cases of ramen noodles big enough to float to Cuba. Great prices, yes, but the experience can be daunting for anyone without a forklift. Brothers Produce breaks that daunting wholesale barrier. Yeah, its entrance faces a loading dock and is sometimes partially blocked by crates of fruit, but don't let that stop you: Inside you'll find an accessible store with great bargains and a stupendous selection. Especially good are the varieties of spices, bulk dry goods (ranging from twenty to 50 cents a pound), and exotic hot sauces and marinades. The produce is surprisingly fresh and unbeatably cheap — who can say no to plum tomatoes at 89 cents a pound (although prices change daily)ç On your way out, check out the massive fish heads in the freezer. Halloween is not that far away, after all.

Upon entering this tiny den of epidermal art, you might wonder where all the tattoo designs are. The answer: in your head, from where they will be skillfully extracted by an artist (and they are real artists, working in a variety of media other than skin). This parlor does custom ink only. For $150 per hour an Ochoplacas artist will create an everlasting masterpiece of your own making, right there on your bod. The walls of Ochoplacas are covered with staff-made art, including a family portrait of sorts of the collective's five main creators. The legend reads: "8P: Miami's Most Hated Crue." They're actually pretty nice guys. Which isn't to say their work is painless — but is anything more painful than the permanence of a bad tattooç

This air-conditioned shopfest offers not one, but eight jewelry places that'll be pleased to pierce you anywhere. So if you don't like what the lady behind the counter is wearing or the way she chews her gum, just walk over to one of the other half-dozen piercing joints. And if you're still not too keen on the idea, you can shop around in the mall's roughly 200 booths until you work up the courage to get something shiny stuck in your ear, belly, eyebrow, or other body part. As the sting of getting stuck begins to wear off, mosey around and consider having your hair (Mohawk) and nails (black polish, please) done. Maybe even visit one of the phone kiosks for a cell with which to tell all of your friends what's in your skin.