The 25 Douchiest Bars in Miami

Bienvenidos a Miami, a world of parties that don't stop and people you wish would. The magic city is a beautiful beach town with a little-known rich cultural heritage (no, seriously). It's also a tropical paradise teeming with flashy nouveau riche hordes (and the dregs of the Old Money set) battling their boredom. By night, it's that same crowd, just drunk. Fun!

We went, we saw, and we cringed, and with our help, you too can survive the super-thirsty scene that is Miami nightlife. These are 25 douchey watering holes you should avoid (or frequent, depending on how tight your Ed Hardy shirt is). So sit back, pull your e-cig out, and revel in the heat and unsophisticated faux-glamour of the worst drinking establishments in South Beach, and beyond.

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Address: 2531 NW 2nd Ave.
Website: woodtavernmiami.com

You may ask, what is a douche, and what makes us such experts at identifying them? Let's say you go to a bar, and an entire rugby team tries to talk you into giving them a piggyback ride. If you think that's a funny pick-up line, then you're a douche, and you'd fit right in at Wood Tavern. The most troubling part of this equation is that Wynwood artists actually think this place is cool. Shout out to the sedan they turned into a taco truck, because that's amazing, but sorry, this is still an wanna-be-artistic-douche bar. And no, that doesn't make it better.

Address: 900 Ocean Dr‎.
Website: mangostropicalcafe.com

Located on Ocean Drive, Mango's ropes in tourists with celebrity impersonators and steep cover fees. Mango's almost feels like an all-inclusive resort: There's all the bad food, cheesy entertainment, and turnt up bros you can stomach. But, if you indulge, you'll undoubtedly leave feeling sick and very ashamed of yourself. You're better off going somewhere else, ordering yourself one of those four-person margaritas with the beer bottle upside down, and calling it a night. The latter would result in a more exciting evening, trust.

Address: 1532 Washington Ave.
Website: dreammia.com

Dream is home to a hyper-specific genre of Miami bros known as "pseudo-ghetto" that we didn't believe existed until we set foot in the place. We can only assume that the main aim of this space is to give club-goers a complete sense of disorientation. Because, between the strobe lights and the thick, smoky haze, it's dangerously easy for strange humans to enter your personal space, and subsequently assault it. Avoid Dream, and disassociate from anybody who makes mention of this spot without terror in their eyes and/or sarcasm in their hearts.

Address: 1218 14th Ct.
Website: foxholebar.com

Simply put, Foxhole is a mancave. There is no sign alerting the outside world of its presence, just a red light above the door. The inside is a dark cavern littered with guns used for decoration (we hope) and the discernible scent of stale belches and other bodily functions. Men have been left alone in this bar for so long they've become a sort of feral animal. They've forgotten how to interact with females, and instead resort to aggressive, brutish maneuvers not unlike the ones cave men once used. Don't say you didn't know. We just told you.

Address: 732 NE 125th St.
Website: billyspubtoo.net

One sure-fire way to locate a douchebag haven is to discern which Yelp listing employs the most exclamation points, as the symbols directly correlate to the number of people in the bar who talk like their caps lock is permanently on. With that in mind, welcome to Billy's Pub Too!!! In most circumstances, a dimly lit, dutifully decorated establishment would be a revered dive bar. But, the bruh bruhs were so pumped on the possibility of a dive bar existing in Miami that they flocked to it in droves and ruined it for the rest of us. The prices here are also to blame, as they attract a young, broke crowd who file in to take advantage of their 8-hour-long happy hour(s), because it reminds them of the frat parties of yore. And, with the Foosball and beer pong tables gracing the tiki backyard, we're not surprised.

Address: 900 S Miami Ave #250
Website: bluemartinilounge.com

Middle-aged single moms, where you at? Right here, unfortunately. And what attracts thirsty douches more than a slew of leathery MILFs? Nothing. OK, we'll stop answering our own questions now. Wait, one more: Are you the kind of guy who likes to get driven home from the bar in a minivan? Yes? OK, this is your spot, Sparky.

Address: 1811 Purdy Ave.
Website: www.purdylounge.com

It's called the "Durty Purdy" with good reason—wearing sandals here is not recommended. The bar is a how-to manual for bad design. The pool table is placed inconveniently, jutting into the middle of the room, and will have you dodging cues as wannabe semi-pro billiards bros yell "COMBO!" every 10 seconds. While weekdays host a more subdued crowd, the weekend's cheap drinks and fresh-off-Sobe vibes can make the bros wearing sweatpants and UM T-shirts a little too self-righteous for our taste. Avoid the bruises and the bros and just stay home.

Address: 401 Biscayne Blvd.
Website: offthehookah.com

If you grew up in south Florida, you likely heard someone that may or may not have been DJ Khaled working a late-night radio job, yelling about how he was broadcasting live from Off The Hookah. Now that you're grown, you know OTH for what it really is—a breeding ground for wanna-be edgy douchebags. They're douchebags because they went somewhere in an effort to get on the live broadcast train, and even went as far as requesting shout-outs. But, they're still edgy as hell because they smoke hookah—a super exotic hobby for mere Floridians. Don't bother trying to get on their level.

Address: 297 NW 23rd St.
Website: cafeinamiami.com

Located on the mainland, Cafeina is a hotbed for uncool. The problem lies in the flush of patrons it receives after every Art Walk event. Full with their dose of culture for the month, bros who've been suppressing their true, abrasive selves all day while pretending to be introspective end up here. So, it goes without saying that they'll explode if they don't get a few Jaegerbombs in them, stat. Cafeina is the nearest place with a liquor license, and is thus subject to an influx of these pent-up brosefs. Infested and degraded by rampant fist bumps and men telling stories about each other's moms, this is not a bar for the faint of heart.

Address: 4441 Collins Ave.
Website: arkadiamiami.com

Arkadia, LIV's cheaper sister spot, is where Deadmau5 played/plays. Deadmau5 and his over-sized rat head are the leader of the superdouche community, and following the producer's lead, they've all flocked to this spot. Of course, pool parties are generally awful in Miami. After the usual suspects roll out of bed, reapply their faces, and apologize to the people they've vomited on/had sex with the night before, the douches are ready to rally again. When playing host to barbecues, Arkadia is filled with bathing suits and sunglass-clad masses wading through the cesspool, attempting to rinse off the shame and STIs from last night. Eventually, the crowd moves indoors to a venue with even less space. Have fun getting sweaty and claustrophobic—we won't see you there!

Address: 401 Biscayne Blvd.
Website: fat-tuesday.com

Two words: Alcoholic slushies. Because Fat Tuesday opens before most coffee shops, you're left with no choice but to get an alcoholic slushie for yourself and your younger siblings at 10 a.m. The sunshine and elevated blood alcohol content can make one feel invincible, and with invincibility comes idiocy. You may enter as a completely functioning human being, but you'll leave primed to make poor decisions. Then again, you're on a tropical beach, so you deserve to take a little bro-cation. As your tattoo says, only God can judge you.

Address: 1905 Collins Ave.
Website: rokbarmiami.com

This spot is owned by Tommy Lee. We could just leave it at that, but we'll continue, lest you be tempted to rip the sleeves off your shirt and get down with the wannabe-has-been rockers. To his credit, Lee does provide air conditioning and reasonably priced drinks. Unfortunately, it's not enough to make the all bad tattoos and dyed-black hair bearable. Too little, too late.

Address: 1216 Washington Ave.
Website: automatic-slims.com

Critically acclaimed for their hot bartenders, and nothing else, Automatic Slims is a last-resort for those with good taste. For those lacking the latter, know that the stripper pole has an age limit, and that no one under 30 has placed their limbs on it before. With the ambiance of a greasy spoon combined with a bowling alleys' decor, this place has the potential to be the next spot your mom meets a very bad OkCupid date at. But be warned—those that show will come thirsty, and we're not talking for drinks.

Address: 1 Ocean Dr.
Website: nikkibeachmiami.com

Nikki Beach is a great place to go and laugh at everyone. Because it is a restaurant that includes admission to the club after dining, the evenings can find a few children drifting about. Despite the presence of impressionable youth, there is a fair share of vomiting and shameful activity, which has stained the curtains (insert rock on hand sign here) and the venue's reputation. The men that frequent this spot act as living, breathing museums of the Jersey Shore-era, and the females here seem to approve, so let that serve as a warning sign. Unless you're looking to observe these specimens with a National Geographic sense of curiosity, opt out of Nikki Beach.

Address: 601 Biscayne Blvd.
Website: www.bongoscubancafe.com

Ah, Bongo's. It's shaped like a pineapple and owned by Gloria Estefan. Home to "celebrity sightings" (referring only to the one time Farrah from Teen Mom took a picture with Trina here), this is where newly-legal girls go to get hammered for free. Pour one out for the those young'uns living the douche life at a tender age. Older men will buy anybody that makes eye contact with them a drink, and these PYTs? They know not what they do. Bongo's is also attached to the America Airlines Arena, home to the Miami Heat. Heat fans who aren't cool enough to be invited to any post-game parties (*cough* Drake *cough*) will dub Bongo's the after-party spot and stumble over for an evening of mistakes. Also beware of the photographers here, who inexplicably subject you to their flash at every turn. With a patio out back that is perfect for a nice nap once your Red Bull and vodkas have stopped working, be sure to remind your friends not to leave without you. If you wake up alone at 4 a.m., you'll surely swear you're in purgatory.

Address: 1921 Collins Ave.
Website: myntlounge.com

Mynt has been around for a long time but fails to have developed any kind of reputation, save for the fact that it's been around for way too long. Mynt is also known for playing host to a pivotal meltdown scene on The Real Housewives of Miami, which was likely brought on by overpriced drinks and a long day of tanning. When a bar can manage to avoid going out of business for this long in a nightlife mecca like Miami, it can lead people to believe that the bar must be doing something right. This is incorrect. Mynt is still alive because it is the venue that will let you in after you've been refused by other "reputable" clubs. That's all there is to it. Sorry Mynt, but you're just the backup booty call.

Address: 2201 Collins Ave.
Website: wallmiami.com

Wall is the club in the trendy W hotel, so naturally, everyone who's there thinks they're cooler than they actually are. Enter elegant debauchery and polished douchebags. The only decor is smoke, mirrors, and lasers, which lends itself to the most popular dance move: falling over furniture. Men here are often seen wearing shirts that look like they're cutting off circulation to their swollen arms, which they flex while they wade through crowds with a bottle in hand. Add unsolicited shots being poured into your mouth by overzealous, turnt up, non-employees, and you've got yourself a party. Or a lawsuit. Whatever's clever.

Address: 423 Washington Ave.
Website: lovehatemiami.com

Love Hate is the bar owned by the tattoo shop Miami Ink, so please, make as many snap judgments as you'd like. When you walk in, there will inevitably be a gaggle of young girls drinking and being hit on by older married men. The playlist hinges on sing-a-long rock songs and the tattoo-inspired artwork boasts a large scale wall-piece of a cross emblazoned with the words "In Remembrance of Sobriety" amidst the all-American feel of abandoned car scraps. Also, Love Hate's claim to fame is that Ricky Martin stopped by one time. Let that be a sign.

Address: 1445 Washington Ave.
Website: cameomiami.com

It may be redesigned and "reborn," but Cameo still houses the same crowd. A generic bar is stuffed with generic bros doing generic dance moves to generic music. There's really no selling point, aside from the fact that it's a spot you might not have to wait hours for. The dance floor has several stripper poles, and if you're lucky, maybe you'll see a girl you're not related to give you a show! After spending $20 on a beer, you'll likely take your chances.

Address: 760 Ocean Dr.
Website: www.wetwillies.com

It's undecided if this establishment is more parts douche or ratchet, but either way—HASHTAG OH LORD. Wet Willies is less a "bar" and more a stripped-down 7-Eleven that serves alcoholic slushies. It only turns into a bar when patrons too sloppy to leave decide to take it to the dance floor. And by "dance floor," we mean a barren room that's ideal for the vomiting that will soon follow. For douchery's sake, there's a sign above the entrance that reads "NO SUNGLASSES PAST 8 PM," which, unfortunately, goes unenforced. And, Wet Willies? Really? Everyone knows only douches give wet willies. Except Delonte West. He's not a douche.

Address: 235 23rd St.
Website: mokaimiami.com

This mini-club of SoBe has a porn-chic vibe going for it. With alligator skin couches, chain drapes, and strategically placed stuffed tigers, it is truly a d-bag's take on "keeping it classy." Mokai reps brag about it being the tightest knit club in Miami, stating that there's no separation of cliques in this club—and they're right. That's because there is absolutely no room in this space, allowing Ed Hardy-repping goons every opportunity to get some skin-on-skin contact. With just over 200 people squeezing in here nightly, you'll be grinded on and felt up more in this tiny club than you did at a middle school dance. Enjoy.

Address: 1235 Washington Ave.
Website: mansionmiami.com

Mansion is your typical classless club scene. But, rather than harboring feelings of guilt or embarrassment about that fact, Mansion is proud of the monster they've created. It's impossible to be ashamed of what you've catered your business around, and found the perfect equation to. Mansion keeps the douche-catering biz on lock with a laughable $50 minimum at the bar, which would be even funnier if it didn't directly correspond to the inflated drink prices. As you walk through the crowded rooms, you'll witness men who've reverted to their primal selves, grabbing at women until they're given the attention they desperately crave. If you're lucky, somebody might fall off the runway located in the center of the VIP area. Here's to hoping!

Address: 34 NE 11th St.
Website: clubspace.com

Refuse to go to Space. It's open from 10 p.m. to 4 p.m. FOUR FUCKING P.M. A few years ago they found a girl's body in a burning trash can. Even if we were to disregard this as incriminating proof that the place is not safe, there's still ample evidence to support our case. So, what's the scientific formula here? They've got a classic setup of easy-to-bribe bouncers, tables you can purchase to pretend you're important, and lights that will give your unborn children seizures. The sheer number of hours that a multiple-story building can remain at capacity is remarkable, but as we all know, douches breed excess, and that's exactly what you find at a club that consistently meets its max capacity of 2,500. The steroid-swollen flock here, and draw in more of their kind. Fear Space accordingly.

Address: 320 Lincoln Rd.
Website: www.setmiami.com

SET is that fancy club that's perfect for those special nights out with twelve of your bros and their wifeys. With '30s decor, low-lying tables, and flat cushioned couches, it's the ideal setup for the hours of couch-dancing at the table you've purchased with your parent's pizza shop money. A shout out to the little women in littler dresses with platforms strapped to their feet up there, twitching on those couches for hours on end; that can't be easy, and we appreciate the coordination it takes. Especially being that they're at eye level with a whole floor full of bros fist-pumping in their faces. If those douchettes were to take a single misstep, they'd surely hit a table or two on their way down, take out several sparklers, and plummet into a sea of pummeling fists. When faced with the popular dilemma of what to buy the girl that already has every Louis Vuitton wristlet, consider gifting her with the perfect couch dancing experience. Now that's romance.

Address: 4441 Collins Ave.
Website: livnightclub.com

LIV is only fun if you're in VIP, and into LMFAO, gelling your hair vertically, and applying copious amounts of self tanner. This is not because we're VIP snobs (sidenote: we are) but because we don't relish breathing in the balmy pit of GA's (general admission-ers, to the uninitiated) that make getting to the bar/bathroom/anywhere a nearly impossible pursuit. The dance floor is framed by balconies that overlook it, and these alcoves house the assholes dumb enough to shell out money to watch everyone else swap sweat below. LIV may offer your best chance of running into Drake (cool) and, also, the highest probability of Drake scooping your girl (not cool). LIV is a great spot to find bros who can't dance, and instead just idly stare. Perched and peeping, they will shamelessly gawk, mouth agape, at anyone below, resulting in an animal-at-a-zoo feel that's as awkward to watch as it is to experience.