An endlessly laudable organization, FIAC was founded in 1996 by ten attorneys and activists concerned about cuts in funding to immigrant advocacy. Their budget was $400,000. Ten years later, they have 40 employees and a $2.4 million budget. Their tireless work on behalf of all immigrants, from Haitian asylum-seekers to migrant farm workers, is desperately needed in South Florida. FIAC attorneys, led by executive director Cheryl Little, are at the forefront of immigrant issues -- ranging from poor conditions at detention centers to the burgeoning human trafficking industry.

In 1992 the first choice in the NBA draft was Shaquille O'Neal. The second was Alonzo Mourning, and a rivalry, sometimes bitter, developed between the two centers. Last year Shaq and Zo became partners in the Miami Heat's ongoing quest for an NBA championship. In between exists enough triumph, adversity, and drama to fill a book (or ten). In any case, Zo's the man because of the intricacies of pro hoops, a team game in which back-up players are often as important as starters. And the drama. After coming to Miami in 1995 and delivering top-quality play for years, Mourning, who had been diagnosed with focal glomerulosclerosis, missed the entire 2002-2003 season because of what the media called his "career-ending" kidney illness. But Zo came back, played for New Jersey and Toronto, and was re-signed as a free agent by the Heat on March 1, 2005. The Heat then made its most promising run for NBA supremacy, losing by only six points in Game 7 of the Eastern Conference finals. With Shaq suffering an injury earlier in those playoffs (he returned for the finals), the Heat might not have made it as far as they did without Zo, who stepped in and filled Shaq's enormous shoes. And that's the key now, as the Heat has gone all-out (a number of trades, Pat Riley returning as coach) to finally go all the way. With Shaq being prone to minor injuries and missing free throws, it is Alonzo Mourning who could make the difference between supremacy and second place.

On most Fridays between 3:00 and 9:00 p.m., Boulevard Liquors cashes checks for hundreds of the lunch-bucket schmos and sundry perhaps-less-than-documented worker ants who are doing the scut work of reshaping Miami's condo-a-skyline. Intrepid streetwalkers have caught on to the potentially captive audience and staked out a bus bench nestled between the store and the nearby Pronto market. Those stuck in traffic can often catch the quick-buck hustlers jockeying for position and wagging their stuff. Some of the shameless tarts have taken to bringing along a pet dog; they apparently believe a canine will throw off Miami's finest while they mow threw their grimy, hayseed Johns like reapers in a wheat field. The sordid ritual is part street theater, part cockfight, and highly entertaining. Best of all, it's a free and soothing balm for those on the verge of rush-hour road rage.

Clocking in at just under six months, the 2005 hurricane season will long be remembered not only for its ferocity but also for its length. With such a large segment of the year under the threat of canceled vacations and impromptu sandbagging, it pays to have up-to-date information at your fingertips, and there's no better place for immediate gratification than the Internet. Skeetobite Weather is a graphically attractive site that tracks storms from beginning to end. The Website presents the same computer models the weathermen use, so you can play your own in-house forecaster. (Hint: The GFDL model did well last season.) However, the wind-field feature is the most useful element on the chart. This staggered bull's-eye refocuses attention from the storm's center to the entire area that might be affected by dangerous winds.

He's got that University of Miami swagger, as the New York Times pointed out a few games into the Hurricanes' season last year. Granted, the team lost two games after that story, but Phillips never failed to impress. Only a freshman, the Carol City native in the #1 jersey bears the look of a classic Cane: He's fast, he's there on every play, and he's always up for a little pre-kickoff freestyle booty-shaking to get the adrenaline pumping. The Canes may not have won a national championship this time around, but the safety played every game -- every tackle -- like a winner.

Take a vacation without leaving town, but don't leave home without your wallet (or before requesting a higher limit on your credit cards). Experience a weekend of relaxing in hotel paradise and think of it as a meager sampling of the life of a celebrity. Walking into the lobby of The Setai, you are immediately transported to a tranquil plane of harmony. Good Chi flows from the teak wood and the antique bricks transported from Shanghai. The design of the hotel, described as "Art Deco Fusion," melds the architectural standard of classic South Beach -- it is, after all, a replica of the historic Dempsey Vanderbilt Hotel -- with soothing elements of Asian flair. Talismans adorn the walls to ward off evil spirits, so you will experience nothing but positive energy throughout your relaxing weekend stay. You will sleep on luxurious Dux beds with Irish linen sheets, watch your cable shows on flat-screen LCD or plasma televisions sets with Bose surround-sound, and make your morning java jolt with a Lavazza espresso maker. If you forget your bathing suit, simply go to the gift shop and buy one of the very cool Blue Glue bikinis ($120 each). (You decide you want both the purple one with the cute cutouts and the one with green iridescent sequins, so you splurge. You're on vacation, right?) After a hard afternoon of chilling by one of the three pools, you can return to your suite for a soak in your big tub or a scrub under the shower, which is equipped with Acqua di Parma products. Enjoy delicious Asian cuisine or comfort foods prepared before your eyes from The Restaurant or Sushi Bar (about $240) and a Zen-like, mind-altering spa treatment including shiatsu massage and aromatherapy oils, followed by a Jacuzzi soak ($450 per couple). Although weekend packages normally start at $3900, May 1 marks the off-season, which means deep discounts for locals. Two nights will set you back only $1220, which brings the total to $1890 (before the two bathing suits are tacked on to your bill). The effect it will have on your demeanor is priceless.

Imagine you run a business, and the local government suddenly tells you it will begin to offer to the public the same service you already sell -- for free. You'd come up with a plan to stop it, wouldn't you? That's the position Atlantic Broadband found itself in a few months ago when the City of Miami Beach moved in on the firm's turf as an Internet service provider. First the company implied "public safety" would suffer (as if all the city's perverts and con artists were just waiting to log on for free). Then came the chest-thumping that included a challenge under a state law that forbids cities from charging for Internet access or selling advertising. But hey, there's no evidence the city will do either. You know what, Atlantic Broadband? Please don't do us any more favors. Thanks.

HBO Latino honored the most diverse Hispanic community in the United States this year when it devoted two episodes of the program Habla to Miami. The show, a series of vignettes about the idiosyncrasies of being Hispanic in the United States, struck a perfect balance by highlighting the sexy, sensual side of Latin culture without making Hispanics into the bimbos/macho men stereotypical of so many telenovelas. The Tower Theater on Calle Ocho thundered with laughter during a special screening of the program this past fall, but most impressive was how the program helped Hispanics in Miami -- be they from Cuba, Argentina, or Mexico -- celebrate their national differences and their cultural similarities. Puerto Rican native and Miami resident Oscar Hernandez said during the program that he had to go to the Midwest to appreciate these ties. There he came across one other Hispanic -- a Salvadoran with whom he thought he had little in common. "When you're in a place that's neutral and everybody's speaking English, suddenly that person is your brother. At that point you're nothing but a little exclamation point amongst a lot of periods!" He explained. Habla viewers were given an opportunity to appreciate that concept without leaving the comfort of their own Florida rooms.

Those of us with Bacchanalian tendencies have been there: After a night of imbibing, you haul your carcass out of bed and into the shower, expecting hangover pangs to hit as soon as the fog clears. Instead, as the bilious fumes rise from your gut, a different sensation arises and you realize you're still drunk. Wondering if such a thing is possible, you begin reviewing the previous evening's events and realize that, sure enough, you stopped drinking only three hours ago. Which is when most of us call in sick. Or start slurping coffee madly. What we don't do -- what no one should ever do -- is immediately get behind the wheel. Of an airplane. But this is exactly what two drunken jackasses who worked for America West attempted to do about five hours after running up a $122 bar tab in Coconut Grove. Luckily airport workers alerted security guards that pilot Thomas Cloyd and first officer Christopher Hughes reeked of liquor as they passed through security checkpoints. The cops stopped the plane and removed the pair from the cockpit, after which they both failed Breathalyzer tests. Defense lawyers argued the two men weren't guilty of operating the plane while drunk because they never made it into the air. They were convicted June 8, 2005. In July a judge sentenced 47-year-old Cloyd, of Peoria, Arizona, to five years in prison. Hughes, age 44, of Leander, Texas, received two-and-a-half years. Everyone who's ever been an airplane passenger should send a thank-you card to Circuit Judge David Young, who handed down the stiff sentences.

"This is my statement/Sometimes cartoons make me cry/I am an artist." Say what? Some people have a difficult time folding their noggins around Rodriguez's approach to making art. Like his inscrutable haiku, his works can seem like those cookie fortunes that leave you scratching your head and pondering the content for days. The New World Art School grad has been stymieing the public since he bolted out of the gate with his first solo show, "A Pre-Career Retrospective," featuring drawings, paintings, and objects from his childhood. Rodriguez also once had himself followed by a private eye and then exhibited the investigator's documentation. For an early solo at the Fredric Snitzer Gallery, which reps him, he packed the space with furniture he crafted and then hired a feng shui master to arrange it. During his solo show at Snitzer's during Art Basel 2004, he filled the gallery with conceptual odes to failed relationships, including a pair of mannequins on the verge of duking it out (now in the permanent collection of the Museum of Contemporary Art), and capped off the evening with a mariachi band he taught to sing punk-rock tunes. A squadron of international collectors and curators swarmed the event like bees to a honeycomb. The Kemper Museum of Art, the Rubell Family Collection, and the Rosa and Carlos de la Cruz Collection are among those that scooped up his stuff. Some of his recent work includes a neon reminder that the grim reaper is always knocking at the door, and a series of photographs in which he appears as a bearded Castro-like revolutionary in one panel, sports a Pancho Villa handlebar mustache in another, and wears Hitler lip lint in the last, milking beaucoup mileage out of his chin fur. Perhaps the pan of chocolate chip cookies he frosted with his name and phone number while fishing for a date with a girl he didn't know, and then subsequently photographed and titled "You're Just a Friend I Haven't Met," best captures his appeal. We can't think of anyone else in town with the chutzpah to pawn cookies off as art. But you know what? Bert did and ended up with the girl.