The Best Places in the United States

A festival-wear shop on Mill Avenue stocked with shiny bodysuits, fuzzy sets, wild sunglasses, flow toys, and everything else you need to look properly unhinged under a light rig. Most of the merchandise comes from Arizona makers, so the sequins carry some local pride. The store has a posted zero-tolerance policy for bigotry, which shouldn't be a selling point but somehow still is. Go when your next event is two weeks out and you've convinced yourself you have something to wear.

Two 300-foot sandstone fins frame the stage at Red Rocks, an outdoor amphitheater carved by geology rather than any architect. U2 filmed "Under a Blood Red Sky" here, and the recording captures why: the acoustics are a geological accident that nobody has managed to replicate. The venue sits open most of the year for hiking and visiting even when nobody's performing, so you don't need a ticket to feel like you've stumbled onto something.

A 360-degree ocean tunnel sits at the center of this mall aquarium, and yes, it's inside Arizona Mills, which somehow makes the sharks feel more surreal. Over 5,000 species move through 161,000 gallons, including reef sharks, stingrays, jellyfish, and a tank where kids can locate both Nemo and Dory without a map. The tide pool lets you touch baby sharks, and a paid add-on gets you up close with rescued sea turtles. Cheaper than its Scottsdale rival by a wide margin.

Part antique mall, part haunted house, Terror Trader is a horror-themed marketplace where local vendors fill coffin-shaped cases with slasher memorabilia, VHS tapes, and ceramic human organs. A museum room of real skulls anchors the space, and life-size slasher villains lurk around corners for good measure. Phoenix New Times named it the best place for horror buffs two years running. The crowd, predictably, does not shop in beige.

A vast stage and a sound system loud enough to rattle the fillings out of your skull make The 44 in Glendale the go-to metal venue in the Valley, which feels cosmically correct given that Alice Cooper grew up nearby. National touring acts share the bill with tribute bands and local talent, and the bar food is cheap enough that you can eat and still afford a band tee. Bring earplugs unless you enjoy tinnitus as a souvenir.

Chandeliers and exposed rafters inside a 1930s building that now hosts 1,800 people for live music on a good night. The Van Buren is a midsize concert venue in downtown Phoenix where general admission keeps things relatively democratic and the sightlines are genuinely hard to complain about. Live Nation books the calendar, which means a steady rotation of artists big enough to matter but not yet filling arenas.

Tens of thousands of used books spread across the fairgrounds floor once a year, priced so low it feels like a clerical error. The VNSA Used Book Sale is Phoenix's annual bibliophile free-for-all, run by volunteers and drawing serious collectors alongside people who just need something for the pool. Bring a tote, bring cash, and arrive with a loose plan, because the sheer square footage has a way of dissolving any sense of time or restraint.

A vintage shop tucked into a North Phoenix strip mall, Wang's moves the kind of T-shirts that make strangers stop you on the street: old Suns gear, beat-up band tees, the Marilyn Manson shirt your mom vetoed. Stock turns over constantly, so regulars follow their Instagram like a dispatch line. Prices run fair to real money depending on the piece, though the Saturday sale bins reliably yield something good for ten dollars.

All Or Nothing is a bagel shop built around a wood-fired oven and a pun: "All" for everything, "Nothing" for plain, both sourdough. It began as a folding table and a pizza oven outside a drum shop and has since graduated to an Airstream. Order at the window, expect schmears made in-house, and watch a summer series hand the griddle to local food trucks. It has won Best New Bagel Spot and Best Chef Series from the Nashville Scene.

A small vintage shop in Tucson's Grand Avenue arts district, 3G Vintage is packed floor to ceiling with the detritus of a better-dressed era: mid-90s cassette singles, old VHS tapes, back issues of Rolling Stone, troll dolls. New stock arrives constantly, which gives regulars an excuse to stop in often and call it research. Whether the decades it celebrates were genuinely simpler or just pre-mortgage is a question you can debate on the drive over.

Warm booth seating, a patio with live music some nights, and servers who can actually talk you through the list make this Evanston wine bar feel more like a neighborhood living room than a tasting room. Whites, reds, rosés, and cocktails share menu space with charcuterie and flatbread pizzas, so a glass rarely stays lonely. The kind of place where a quick drink tends to turn into a longer evening without anyone minding.

Trays of loose bricks sorted by color and size sit open on the floor so you can hunt down that one piece you've been missing since 2009. Arizona Brick Co. is a family-run LEGO shop carrying new sets, used sets, individual minifigures, and the kind of loose-brick selection that serves both the casual builder and the person who considers this a lifestyle. Price points range enough that you don't have to be a completionist to leave with something.

Somewhere between a liturgical supply house and a very niche gift shop, Autom is the kind of place that sells hanging censers and baptismal fonts alongside saint medallions, garden crosses, and yes, religious-themed Croc charms. The only retail outpost of a catalog operation that ships nationwide, it's been around forever and skews Catholic but has enough for curious shoppers of any tradition or none at all.

Every October, one wing of this sprawling family nursery quietly transforms into a Christmas wonderland, which says something about how seriously Phoenix takes its holiday seasons. The rest of the year, Berridge is the kind of plant nursery you budget an hour for and leave three hours later, having consulted the staff about desert-hardy options and wandered the greenhouse twice. An old-school Phoenix institution with acres to roam.

Neon, glitz, and gold cover every surface of this 3,500-square-foot Scottsdale nightclub, which has been an anchor of the entertainment district long enough to feel like a local institution. The format is straightforward: drinking and dancing, with aerialists and guest DJ sets keeping things from going stale. Expect a line out front and a crowd dressed accordingly.

The side-pull tap that delivers a European-style pour with an extra few inches of foam is a good signal of what kind of taproom this is. Catalyst leans into big, playful styles, including sours, imperials, and hoppy IPAs, alongside a rotating cast of more traditional options. An in-house kitchen called S.A.L.T. handles food, and there's a generous patio when the weather cooperates, which in Tempe is most of the year.

Sketch comedy and improv on South Broadway, where the Baker neighborhood's thrift-store-chic energy suits the format perfectly. Performers with roots in Chicago, New York, and LA take the stage Thursday through Sunday, and the room is small enough that a botched scene lands on everyone equally. Classes run from total beginner to working comic, so you can watch one week and embarrass yourself on stage the next.

A Clarkdale winery sitting in the Verde Valley, Chateau Tumbleweed is probably best known for Le Blend, a red that changes grape count and composition every vintage, pulling from southeastern Arizona vineyards. The current pour stacks ten varieties into something that manages to be both ambitious and easygoing, dark fruit up front, no punishing tannins at the end. Phoenix New Times named it Best Arizona Red Wine in 2024.

A foam tube "noodle forest," a pretend grocery store where kids can shop and restock, a tricycle track with a car wash: this children's museum in a beautifully restored old downtown schoolhouse keeps small visitors busy enough that they forget to argue. The oak floors date to the original building, so parents get architecture while their kids get chaos. Plan a few hours; one level is never enough.

A single-owner operation in a bare-bones space where new and unpublished plays get staged because no board exists to say otherwise. Dangerous Theatre leans into sketch, improv, and stand-up on Fridays alongside original works the rest of the week, the kind of scrappy, intimate venue where the person who wrote the show might also be taking your ticket. Westword named it Denver's boundary-pushing comedy club of 2024.

A crystal shop tucked inside a warehouse that shares a building with a storage facility, so easy to walk past that finding it feels like half the ritual. Inside, the scale surprises: room after room of crystals, including one dedicated entirely to amethyst. A resident cat roams the floor. Weekly sound healing and yoga sessions run under lighting made entirely of crystals, which is either very on-brand or a fire code conversation waiting to happen.

An outdoor amphitheater in the Denver suburbs that has cycled through enough corporate sponsors to fill a naming-rights hall of fame, Fiddlers Green is now back to its original name and hosting around 17,000 people a summer night. The fixed seats up front give way to a general-admission lawn behind, where blankets and lawn chairs fill in for anything from country headliners to metal festivals. AEG Live books the big touring acts that still fill sheds.

A tabletop game store that doesn't charge to use its gaming space, which tells you something about the vibe before you even walk in. Funkatronic Rex stocks tabletop, card, miniature, and role-playing games, with a packed event calendar and staff who clearly play everything they sell. The place landed a segment on "Critter Hug," the Critical Role talk show, which tracks. Phoenix New Times named it Best Game Store in 2024.

Floor-to-ceiling windows that actually let daylight in make this casino feel less like a submarine than what you're used to. The outdoor gardens drive the point home. Inside, there's a large sportsbook with a long LED wall, 800-plus slots, table games, and 40 craft beer taps. Honey & Vine handles sit-down dining. Don't skip the perimeter walk: the walls display artwork by Gila River Indian Community members, and it's worth the detour.

The Stormrider drops you roughly 70 feet into the water, which is one way to spend a Tuesday in Mesa. Golfland Sunsplash is a full-scale water and amusement park with a wave pool holding 450,000 gallons, a raft ride that starts nearly seven stories up, a lazy river, a toddler pool, miniature golf, and an arcade big enough to lose an hour in. Bring the whole chaotic family; the park has something for every age group and nerve tolerance.

The sushi menu here is organized by skill level, from "Beginner Rolls" up through "Intermediate" and into house specials, most of which are named after something you wouldn't say at a work lunch. Hapa is a casual fusion sushi bar that also does sliders, nachos, and a Fuji apple salad for anyone dragged there under protest. The kitchen is more capable than the cheeky menu suggests, and somehow a DJ fits into the whole equation too.

A former automotive garage on Grand Avenue that now holds whatever washed up in one retired fire captain's decades of hunting. The category is "industrial vintage," but that undersells the weird old dolls and model airplanes sharing space with vintage photos and art books. It keeps Thursday-through-Saturday hours, so the First and Third Friday artwalks on Grand are a natural excuse to stop in and see what's appeared since last time.

The 9-foot bong is reserved for special occasions, and the staff will tell you so with a straight face. This Tempe smoke shop has been around forever, and while the name got a subtle refresh somewhere along the way, the mission hasn't: walls of glass pieces, a deep vape section, grinders, rolling trays, hookah supplies, and a staff that actually knows the inventory. Phoenix New Times named it Best Smoke Shop in 2024.

A Victorian mansion that once housed Nashville's mayor now houses a Southern restaurant with a commitment so strict on local sourcing that the menu can change daily. Wood-burning ovens do heavy work, meaning plenty of smoked, grilled, and barbecued dishes done in the classic style. Tables downstairs look out over the vegetable gardens, which, given how directly those gardens inform your plate, feels less like a view and more like disclosure.

An ice rink in the Sonoran Desert is a bit of a flex, and Ice Den Scottsdale leans into it. Free skate sessions run most days (advance registration required), and lessons are available for anyone still holding the wall. A bar and restaurant called 18 Degrees handles the spectators. When the Phoenix Coyotes development squad uses the ice, you get a side of actual hockey. It is, without question, the coldest place for miles.

Five stages, three bars, and over a hundred performers make Jaguars one of the larger adult entertainment clubs in the Southwest. The kitchen runs a full lunch and dinner menu, so you can show up hungry in more than one sense. Rap and pro-athlete sightings raise the energy on big nights, and the annual pole competition draws serious talent from across the region. The Phoenix New Times named it Best Strip Club in 2024.

Seven Diamond pool tables anchor this no-frills West Phoenix bar and billiard hall, where draft beer and chips and salsa keep things moving for hours. Darts, UFC nights, and a genuinely laid-back vibe round out the options. The one catch: JJ's hosts tournaments but has no website to post them on, so call ahead before making the trip. The Phoenix New Times named it Best Pool Hall in 2024.

A compact gear shop in north Phoenix run by former Grand Canyon outfitters who wrote the book on rim-to-rim hiking, not metaphorically but as an actual published guide. The selection leans toward boutique and sustainable brands rather than big-box standbys, and the staff will talk you through your next trip with the enthusiasm of people who just got back from one. They also organize group hikes and workshops if you need a push to get outside.

The floor-to-ceiling rose bouquets here run a hundred stems deep, which is why they photograph better than most wedding venues. La Ocasion is a full-service flower shop with two climate-controlled rooms at the McDowell Road location, where arrangements range from classic long-stems to roses bundled with gold-wrapped Ferrero Rocher. There's also a grand piano and a pool table on site, apparently for scale, or for the photo op.

Eight screens tucked into Scottsdale Quarter, so you can browse a dozen shops, debate dinner, and then settle into a reclining seat for something that might actually be good for you culturally. Landmark leans toward indie and arthouse programming alongside mainstream releases, plus classic film screenings at prices that feel almost apologetic. The sound is solid, the picture sharp, and the crowd skews toward people who checked the reviews before buying the ticket.

The lounge here is comfortable enough that you could forget there are lanes out back, which is either a design triumph or a problem depending on how serious you are about bowling. This Sunnyslope alley has been independently owned forever, and the bar leans into the Big Lebowski energy hard enough that ordering a White Russian feels basically mandatory. Plush seating, warm lighting, geometric walls, and plenty of beer on tap round it out.