Club Schmitz is one of those places where about the only things that have changed since 1953 are the prices on the menu of great and greasy Texas burgers, fries and onion rings. The joint was founded in 1946 when two cousins named Schmitz returned from World War II. The original building burned in 1953, and it was rebuilt that same year. Now it's run by their sons, two cousins named Schmitz, who have no intention of messing with a good thing. Small bar (if that bar could talk, how it would slur its words), cash only (the only plastic permitted are the red booths and chair backs), down-home waitresses, country juke, pool table, shuffleboard and beer only. What separates Club Schmitz from newer places that try too hard is that it doesn't try at all. Check out the variety of vehicles in the parking lot--and those greasy burgers.

Let's face it: Downtown ain't pretty. With few exceptions, Dallas downtown plays host to big ugly buildings, lots of concrete, little plant life, crowded streets and empty sidewalks. The important thing to remember is that there are exceptions, foremost among them the tiny strip of restaurants and cafes known as Stone Street Gardens. This little cranny connecting Main and Elm streets offers what passes for charm in Dallas--outdoor seating, interesting architecture, cool happy hour and nightspots, a pleasant place for lunch alone or with a friend. Now if whatever was infecting the rest of our poor center city could be eradicated with a dose of smart development like this, we'd be, like, almost a real city.

Wilco. Erykah Badu. Catherine D'Lish. Sub Oslo. Interpol. Earl Harvin Trio. Shabazz Three. What do these have in common? Performers, carbon-based life forms. OK, but the main point is they've all played Gypsy Tea Room. Rock. Hip-hop. Jazz. Striptease. Hot new thing. Old guy with guitar and harmonica. Gypsy Tea Room has it all. Not only that, but this venue actually makes going to Deep Ellum worth it. Good sound, reasonable prices, close parking, clean and tucked-away-from-the-stage bathrooms and a bar in the back so you can yell for a vodka-and-tonic without getting a beer bottle thrown at your loud ass in return. The staff also knows how to move people in the doors, out the doors and away from the bar with drink in hand. So you can be close enough to the stage to count the beads of sweat on Jeff Tweedy's upper lip or hang out in the back and still be able to see everything onstage.

Every man fears "women's drinks" for one reason: Ordering a fruity neon drink may cause a bit of...well...shrinkage. But if you pack more than enough to spare, there's no reason not to fight through the crowds at Fireside Pies and order up a prickly pear margarita. The color alone--a cross between fuchsia and flaming pink--is enough to cause your masculine regions to shrivel up and your voice to reach the eunuch octave. Just think of it this way: They create the drink from a manly portion of tequila; pureed cactus from the very fields where guys like Randolph Scott and John Wayne chugged rotgut whiskey while huntin' down renegade "injuns"; fresh-squeezed lime juice (probably hacked from trees by rusted machetes); and orange liqueur. French stuff--can't help you there. But it's rimmed with salt chiseled from mines deep in the Urals by tough old prisoners from the Gulag. Whatever you need to convince yourself, the effort is worth it. The cocktail is refreshing and has a kick, sweet but not fruity.

It's the weekend. You've worked hard for five days, and you're ready to rip it up. But before you brave Deep Ellum or Lower Greenville, you need a little boost, a way to ease into what is sure to be a night of unbridled debauchery. What you need is Down Bar and Lounge. The Dallas Morning News called this place a "haven for the unpretentious," and we agree. With its laid-back atmosphere and friendly clientele, Down is anything but a downer. Bartenders/owners Tim and Craig are quick with a joke and to light up your smoke, and they'll send you out the door with a smile and a good start to a decent buzz.

Some parents turn up their noses at the old, somewhat dark and dank Dallas Aquarium, but the kids enjoy it. It's entirely gimmick-free--no cutesy exhibits, no corporate sponsors, no gift shop and only the purest form of "interactive" display: a station where children can pick up and feel starfish, crabs, sea anemones and other such creatures. The staff is knowledgeable, patient and friendly. Best of all is the price: $3 for adults and children 12 and up, $1.50 for kids 3 to 11. It's open seven days a week, so carve out an hour to visit and know you won't end up with a $50 gift-shop bill.

This is a tough category for a city such as Dallas, where most restaurant patios and decks overlook parking lots or city streets. What the city lacks are more public spaces, the kinds of courtyards and plazas found in Europe. The West Village has accomplished this plaza feel (although the traffic is still an issue), particularly outside the Magnolia Theatre, where al fresco dining can be had beside Taco Diner, Paciugo, Paris Vendome and Nikita. All form a kind of faux courtyard, and diners, some with their leashed dogs in tow, can engage friends and loved ones as they make their way to the movies. Although cars can obstruct the view, the venue is an attractive meet-and-greet for the see-and-be-seen set, and it lends itself to that sense of community so sorely lacking in modern times. Or at the very least, a beer.

Recently, we went on a scotch-tasting journey around Dallas. We ordered the same drink, Dewar's rocks, at many fine bars about town. It wasn't at all unusual for that drink to cost upward of eight bucks. Usually, there was just enough scotch in there to get our scotch buds active, but not nearly enough to placate them. That was not true at The Loon. Long a legend in town for its stiff pours, the bar on the wrong side of the tracks from the West Village proved itself most generous. For $5.25, we got nearly four fingers of the sweet, pale brown liquor. Since you'll be drinking fewer rounds, be sure to tip handsomely. Especially to the bartender with the tattoo on her back. At least we think it was a tattoo. After two of those drinks, it could have been a gecko loose in her britches.

Wait until late, 11 p.m. or even later, then come to the Jasmine Cafe in what's left of the old downtown in Richardson on Main Street (Belt Line Road east of Central Expressway). A mainly Middle Eastern crowd, salted with whatever you call non-Middle Easterners, gathers over thick, sugared Turkish coffee and Turkish Delight candies. The hookah pipes begin to bubble and brew (tobacco in the bowls). You can buy your own hookah for $40 to $100. The sound system plays hits like "Habena," "Toutah" and "Me Alli We Oltelu." In the pale light of parking lots, backs of commercial buildings soften into outlines that could be walls of sun-dried brick. Chatter and laughter in several languages including English continue into the wee hours. The air is cool. Finally, somebody knows how to live in this hot, hot place.

The party place can be the Ponies & Pals Hickory Creek barnyard or your own back yard, but the cool thing about this party for kids is that it comes with live animals and pony rides. A party can be arranged to include goats, sheep, rabbits and potbellied pigs for petting, and ponies for riding. Operators will also provide a birthday cake, ice cream and more for the junior party-goers and can take the show just about anywhere in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. Attendants constantly monitor the children as they interact with the animals.