The Best Places to Stay and Do in the United States

Milk crates of used vinyl occasionally block the aisles here, which tells you everything about the organizational philosophy. Ghost of Eastside Records is an old-school Tempe record shop where browsing is really excavating, and you come in hunting a Sun Ra reissue and leave with an armful of Thelonious Monk. The selection runs from punk to local indie releases to VHS tapes. Go with time to spare and no fixed agenda.

A record store that decided to become a hardcore and heavy metal venue, and the local scene decided right back. The space is small, the sound is loud, and the crowd shows up ready to mosh. Bands like Tactosa and Implosive Disgorgence have played here alongside local acts, and the annual Sweat Fest TX does exactly what the name suggests. Gritty, consistent, and absolutely not for the noise-averse.

Reclining seats, genuine leg room, and a full bar serving cocktails make this Scottsdale multiplex feel less like a trip to the cinema and more like a minor lifestyle upgrade. Harkins Camelview 14 runs blockbusters alongside art house titles, and the outdoor patio pulls double duty as a pre-show gathering spot and, during cooler months, an actual screening venue. Phoenix New Times named it the valley's top luxury movie theater in 2025.

A letterpress studio and stationery shop tucked into the Bragg's Pie Factory complex on Grand Avenue, where the walls are papered with local artists' prints and vintage concert posters. You can buy cards, notebooks, and coasters off the shelf, commission custom work, or roll up your sleeves in a printing workshop. A free print in the newspaper stand by the door has a way of making the decision for you.

A colorful resale shop in uptown Phoenix stocked with gently used kids' clothing, shoes, toys, and furniture at prices that won't require a second mortgage. You can bring in the outgrown baby Nikes and walk out with cash or store credit, which is a genuinely civilized arrangement. The Phoenix New Times named it Best Children's Resale in 2025. Follow along online for dollar days and sale events before you make the trip.

A squad of Dax robots, three feet tall and rolling on tank-like treads, patrols this 18-acre campus near Tempe Town Lake. Spot one during business hours and it might tilt its head or flash digital heart eyes. Show up after dark and the flirty energy evaporates into a stern warning. One local filmed himself blowing smoke in their faces; nine million Instagram views later, he was banned. The "yet" at the end of that story is doing a lot of work.

An 11-mile paved path running along Hayden Road through Scottsdale, the Indian Bend Wash Greenbelt draws cyclists, joggers, and walkers in numbers that ensure you'll never feel like you've discovered anything. Parks, ponds, and the occasional heron break up the route, and restrooms appear often enough that you won't have to make any difficult decisions. Flat, shaded in stretches, and loaded with infrastructure, it's a reliable weekend afternoon loop for anyone who finds mountain trails more punishing than fun.

Billiards-themed portraits of legendary players guard the bathroom doors at this East Valley pool hall and bar, which recently got a full revamp. League nights fill the tables, but plenty of people come just for the extensive craft beer list or the generously poured drinks from behind the full bar. The food holds up too, which is more than you can say for most places where the pool is the main event.

The park's underwater claim to fame is a stretch of living coral reef you can snorkel, dive, or view from a glass-bottom boat without getting wet. Campgrounds at John Pennekamp come with full hookups and grill setups, and the primitive group sites suit the kind of people who still know ghost stories. Mangrove paddle trails and reef dives fill the daylight hours, and boaters can moor overnight and wake up on the water, about an hour from Miami.

Flat-rate pricing by rack runs this midtown Phoenix thrift and vintage shop: $6 buys a T-shirt, $13 a jacket, and $20 is about as steep as it gets. The store's own flyer forgives the odd missing button by blaming Grandma's casino trip, which tells you exactly what kind of place this is. Vintage guitars hang beside the clothing racks, and the curios section covers old maps, childhood dishware, figurines, and board games.

A compact Japanese gift shop that ships nationwide, so you don't have to feel bad about ordering the fountain pen ink from your couch. In person, the Tempe storefront runs deeper than it looks, with notebooks, journals, loose-leaf teas, kettles, gel and ballpoint pens, and a sticker selection that will test the self-restraint of anyone under twelve, and most people over it.

A specialty fish store that doubles as a free, no-guilt aquarium visit: the tanks run floor to ceiling with coral, sea creatures, and fish you can get close enough to stress out. Staff leave you alone until you need them, prices are labeled, and the selection covers everything from starter setups to the kind of elaborate saltwater tank your houseguests will pretend not to be impressed by.

A living reef sits about 100 yards offshore here, close enough to snorkel to from the sand without chartering anything. This small coastal village north of Fort Lauderdale runs on pastel lifeguard stands, Adirondack chairs at the Beach Pavilion, and an unhurried pace that most of Florida's coast quietly abandoned decades ago. Anglin's Square keeps ice cream and tiki drinks within a sandy shuffle, and El Prado Park fills with people who seem to have nowhere pressing to be.

The basketball courts at Legion Memorial Park were repainted by local artist Najja Moon in purples, oranges, and yellows that make every other court in Miami look like a parking garage. Two full courts, recently renovated, draw serious pick-up runs and plenty of people who just want the backdrop. In a city where most outdoor courts are institutional green or gray, these read more like public art that someone also happens to be playing on.

Thirty miles east of Phoenix, the Superstition Mountains block out enough city glow to remind you the sky has depth. Lost Dutchman State Park is a desert hiking and camping destination where the Flatiron peak silhouettes every photo whether you planned it or not. The dog-friendly campground works for an overnight, and the darkness is patient: give your eyes twenty minutes and the stars do the rest. Phoenix New Times named it the valley's top stargazing spot.

A cash-for-gold shop on West Northern where the metals testing happens right on the counter in front of you, which is either reassuring or fascinating depending on your chemistry background. Staff walks you through every step, and the prices offered have a way of surprising people who expected to get lowballed. Phoenix New Times named it the best place to sell gold in 2025, which tracks with the repeat-customer energy in the room.

A nail salon in the Town & Country plaza that takes sterilization as seriously as the nail art, which is saying something given the menu runs from classic manicures to Jelly Spa Pedicures involving jelly baths, mud masks, hot stones, and fruit masks. The artistic options lean elaborate, think glittery coffin shapes and sunset sets, though subtler choices exist for the quietly vain. Prices stay genuinely accessible, which keeps the appointment book full.

Mac repair shop in Old Town Scottsdale that's been around forever, predating Apple's own retail stores and the genius bars inside them. The pitch is that Apple stores are busy showrooms; MacMedia is where you go when you need someone who actually knows your machine, including the older ones Apple would rather you forget. House calls for Wi-Fi setup are on the table too, which the Genius Bar decidedly is not.

An indoor forest or a digital ikebana show are about as good a reason as any to cross the county line into Dania Beach. MAD Arts is an immersive, technology-forward art museum where the installations lean experimental and the programming runs from shadow puppet dioramas to cult film screenings to small press fairs. It's the kind of place that's genuinely hard to describe to someone who hasn't been, which is basically its pitch.

A plant shop where you might walk in for a small succulent and leave negotiating a 4-foot cactus into your car. The team sources everything from Arizona growers, so nothing here has that slow-death-in-a-big-box-store look. They'll pot your pick on the spot and hand you an actual care plan. The space reads more like a desert gallery than a garden center, which makes the impulse adoption feel almost reasonable.

Kayak rentals sit at the edge of Biscayne Bay here, just south of Coral Gables, and a single push off the dock puts you somewhere palm trees and waterfront mansions have replaced Miami traffic entirely. The park has been around forever, and vendors keep it accessible for anyone who didn't come prepared. The city doesn't disappear so much as go quiet, which, if you've driven Miami's highways lately, feels like a small miracle.

A two-storey guitar neck and synthesizer climb structure announces this Sunset Harbour park before you even find a spot on the grass. Named for the Bee Gee who called South Florida home, it sits between a yacht marina and Purdy Avenue with west-facing views of the Venetian Islands and the Miami skyline. Grab takeout from a nearby spot, spread a blanket, and watch the light go soft over Biscayne Bay.

At 21,000 acres, McDowell Mountain Regional Park is the largest in the Maricopa County system, which means you can spend a serious stretch of trail watching saguaros go from ankle-height seedlings to forty-foot elders without repeating yourself. The upper Sonoran Desert does its most theatrical work out here, all wide sky and arm-waving cacti. Bring water, wear shoes with grip, and resist the urge to touch anything that looks huggable.

A dry cleaner that does the one thing dry cleaners are supposed to do: returns your clothes clean, pressed, and intact, on the day they said they would. Broken buttons and vanished jackets are someone else's problem here. Prices sit a notch above budget, but the little black dress comes back sequins and all, which turns out to be the part that matters most.

Rows of rolling racks packed with leather jackets, deadstock tees, and secondhand oddities fill whatever space Flipside Flea takes over for the weekend. This roaming vintage clothing market moves between downtown Phoenix bars and event spaces, so the shopping comes with a DJ set and a Modelo. Follow them on Instagram to track where they land next.

Nine miles of paved path run the full length of Miami Beach, from Surfside down to South Pointe Park, with the Atlantic on one side and a parade of Art Deco facades on the other. Street markers are embedded in the path so you can track how far you've gone, which sounds athletic until you realize the people-watching is so good you'll stop counting. Bring sunscreen and comfortable shoes; the ocean air handles everything else.

The Roosevelt Row bodega that stocks coffee filters, Tito's, and Pokémon cards at 1 a.m., all under one roof. Milk and Honey Market is a neighborhood convenience shop open from 6 a.m. to 2 a.m., which covers most reasonable emergencies and a few unreasonable ones. Snacks, energy drinks, local craft beer, and classic smoke shop staples fill the shelves. Two locations sit less than half a mile apart, a level of redundancy downtown Phoenix apparently needed.

Thirty-five dollars gets you a thirty-minute deep-tissue massage at this no-appointment-needed foot spa and massage shop tucked into a Glendale strip mall. Chairs up front handle the foot work; beds in the back are for serious back sessions. The therapists are thorough enough that regulars have a standing order to ask for the "magic potion," a salve that targets whatever's been bothering you. Open every day from morning to evening, it runs on walk-ins.

Permanent jewelry, the concept where a jeweler welds a chain around your wrist so there's no clasp to lose or forget, is the move here. Mod + Co. is a Scottsdale studio specializing in 14k and 24k gold-fill pieces fused on-site, and the shop also carries rings, necklaces, and earrings for anyone who isn't ready to commit. Group bookings and bachelorette parties are welcome, which tells you something about the clientele and the general mood of the afternoon.

The draw here is Fat Man's Pass, a natural rock tunnel you squeeze through on the way to Hidden Valley, a quiet basin that somehow feels untouched even though South Mountain is one of the busiest parks in the country. The Mormon Trailhead is your starting point for a hike that reads as moderate rather than punishing, which means you can bring along anyone who owns boots but not trekking poles. Wildlife in the wash, big rock formations, no wizardry required.

A 6,000-square-foot gym just north of Sky Harbor loaded with pro-grade equipment you won't find at most places in the Valley. The owner is a former pro bodybuilder who now works mostly with busy professionals, building routines around real schedules rather than competition prep, though the place handles that too. The mindset here runs serious, and the clientele tends to match it.

The Allapattah outpost of New York's Museum of Sex lands somewhere between art gallery and adult funhouse, with exhibits from illustrator Hajime Sorayama, a floor of erotic carnival games, and evenings when mermaid burlesque performers spin in a giant tank. It's unabashedly touristy, but the educational displays on human sexuality through the ages give you something to think about beyond the gift shop's souvenir vibrators, which are exactly what they sound like.

Nature of Things is a nomadic gallery that doesn't stay anywhere long enough to get comfortable, which seems to be the whole point. The curator plants shows inside borrowed spaces around Dallas, from a small Oak Lawn house to the upstairs loft at the Texas Theatre, each one built around a specific idea or figure. The Texas blues show honoring Lightnin' Hopkins gives you a sense of the ambition. Free admission, no fixed address.

A specialty food shop built into a single shipping container inside The Churchill, Neighbor Market stocks natural wine, artisan olive oil, craft chocolate, cocktail syrups, and small-batch seasonings with a curator's eye for the obscure. The selection somehow never feels like it fits the square footage, which is part of the charm. Go when you need a gift for someone who already owns every kitchen gadget and would rather have something they'd never find themselves.

Two rooms dedicated entirely to pet food make this Central Phoenix pet supply shop feel less like a store and more like a specialty grocer for your dog. The staff field questions about health issues, dietary quirks, and whatever else you've been quietly Googling at 2 a.m., and they never make you feel like a first-time pet owner. Toys, shampoos, and vitamins round out the shelves.

A 950-foot lazy river winds past stages, bars, and cabanas, which is either a water park or a very wet music festival, depending on your afternoon. Oasis Water Park covers seven acres with an eight-story waterslide, a wave pool, and a hot tub that holds 25 people at once. All pools are heated, so this runs year-round. Day passes are available to non-resort guests, and in Phoenix, that's a genuine public service.

Sea turtles the size of coffee tables, otters doing their otter thing, rays gliding overhead in a walk-through tunnel. OdySea is a full-scale aquarium in Scottsdale, with touch tanks, penguin encounters, and a Starbucks that quietly serves cocktails, which is either inspired or deeply on-brand for the desert. Tickets run around $50, though evening hours drop the price and some nights go adults-only for anyone who finds the school-group energy a bit much.

The glass cases at this Gainey Village jewelry boutique hold Cartier and Rolex alongside less-obvious names like Panerai and Blancpain, plus pre-owned Patek Philippe and Audemars Piguet for anyone who prefers their splurge slightly seasoned. The in-house design team also produces original pieces, from bridal sets to statement jewelry. A service department handles repairs or ships the watch off to someone who can. An old-school institution in Scottsdale that has been dressing wrists for a very long time.

The entrance looks like a Blockbuster that somehow survived, right down to the patterned carpet and VHS shelves. This Tempe escape room complex uses a fake video rental store called Quest Video as its lobby, where a clerk greets you, hands you a brief intro challenge, and sends you into one of three themed rooms: an Indiana Jones-style treasure hunt, a prison break, or a zombie apocalypse. Six thousand square feet of nostalgia-flavored puzzles, no late fees.

A 20-acre rewilding project deep in Miami-Dade's Redland, Patch of Heaven Sanctuary is a nature preserve with a Zen garden, koi pond, giant Buddha statue, and a furnished joglo for sitting quietly while the city does whatever the city does. It regularly hosts retreats and forest bathing events. For Miami, where the default setting is "pave it," the existence of this much intentional stillness is its own kind of plot twist.

Walking tours built around Phoenix's haunted history, from festive phantoms to an after-dark crawl through the city's stranger corners. You don't need to believe in anything supernatural to enjoy them; the tours work just as well as oddball local history with better lighting decisions. A good way to see parts of the city that the cactus-and-sunshine brochure quietly skips over.

A cutlery shop for people who find Shun a little pedestrian, Phoenix Knife House stocks premium Japanese brands serious enough that you may not recognize the names until you're already pulling out your wallet. Beyond the blades, you'll find sharpening stones, knife rolls, and chef jackets, and the staff will talk you through all of it without making you feel like a tourist. Bring a dull knife for sharpening and leave with something embarrassingly sharp.

A strip-mall shop in Scottsdale where the glass cases hold digital recorders, door alarms, throwing stars, and bulletproof backpack inserts, all arranged with the cheerful practicality of a hardware store. It's the kind of place that makes you feel both safer and slightly paranoid in the same visit. They also handle fingerprint clearance cards, which is either very convenient or a little on-the-nose depending on why you're there.

A streetcar museum tucked on Grand Ave that most Phoenicians walk past without a second glance. Inside, a collection of restored cars, old uniforms, and memorabilia traces the mule-drawn and electric lines that literally plotted the city's street grid. It's a small place, but spending an hour here reframes every wide boulevard you've ever complained about. The Phoenix New Times named it the museum you probably haven't visited, which is both accurate and a little embarrassing.

A Korean skincare shop tucked into a Mesa strip mall, Populus Beauty stocks face masks, eye creams, and serums, most of them labeled entirely in Korean, which is where the staff earns their keep. The selection runs deeper than what the usual online algorithm surfaces, and the team can point you toward what you need. The return policy is strict, so asking before buying is the move.

A blowout bar that will take your hair wet, dry, or fresh from the shampoo bowl, which removes at least one reason to cancel. Primp and Blow runs through blowouts, braids, up-dos, and extensions across a string of Valley locations, with stylists who move fast enough to have you looking camera-ready in under 40 minutes. Makeup appointments are available too, if you'd like to commit fully to the bit.

A wicker basket a few hundred feet over the Sonoran Desert has a way of reordering your priorities. Rainbow Ryders runs hot air balloon flights over Phoenix, and the combination of cityscape and open desert below does something to your sense of scale that ground level simply cannot. They carry a serious safety record, which matters more than usual when the floor is a woven basket. Go at dawn; the math on summer afternoon heat in a balloon is not in your favor.

Geodes the size of ottomans, fossil slabs, and crystals that look like they were staged by a very ambitious set designer share the floor here with pieces scaled for a backyard or a corporate lobby. Rare Earth Gallery sits in Cave Creek and reads more like a natural history museum than a shop, which is either a sales strategy or a genuine obsession, possibly both. Either way, it's a strange and surprisingly absorbing afternoon.

A living-history Western town where you can catch a stunt show, ride a train, eat a steak, and watch a parade, all set in a lovingly hokey version of 1889 Arizona. It's unapologetically touristy, which is almost the point. Bring out-of-town visitors who need context for all the cowboy mythology, or return after years away and find it exactly as you left it. The duster is optional but spiritually required.

A stretch of the Salt River that spent decades as an open-air dumping ground for tires and appliances is now a riparian corridor drawing more than 200 bird species through central Phoenix. Six flat, easy trailheads make it approachable for casual walkers who happen to spot a kestrel, and serious birders show up with spotting scopes and the quiet intensity of people on a mission. Migration season in spring and fall brings the biggest variety.

A 140-acre outdoor shooting facility east of Mesa, Rio Salado Sportsman's Club runs one of Arizona's more serious junior marksmanship programs, with .22-caliber rifle training for ages 10 to 20 and coaches certified through the NRA who point to a spotless safety record. The grounds include covered benches, a pistol range, silhouette ranges, and an indoor rifle range, so there's room to progress well past the basics.

Signed albums and framed lyrics line the walls of this Scottsdale gallery, which sits somewhere between a serious auction house and a very good argument for obsession. Original paintings by Paul McCartney and Ronnie Wood hang alongside a Stratocaster signed by all three members of Nirvana during an SNL taping. Gold records and signed drum heads fill the gaps. Most people leave empty-handed and perfectly happy about it.

A men's clothing shop in downtown Scottsdale where the vibe is rustic and unhurried and the music is actually good. Rooster Bus stocks brands like Faherty, Howler, and Goorin Bros., the kind of labels that read as put-together without announcing it. The edit skews versatile, covering a backyard cookout as easily as a night out. For anyone who finds clothes shopping a quiet ordeal, this place has a way of making it something closer to an afternoon off.

A flower shop and coffee shop sharing a roof, which is either a stroke of genius or proof that someone ran out of square footage and improvised beautifully. Rowan Tree handles custom arrangements, wedding bouquets, and same-day delivery across the Valley (order before noon), while the adjoining Jasmine Jo Coffee Shop ensures you never have to choose between flowers and a latte. You can browse fresh blooms in person or order from home.

A nonprofit bike collective where you don't just drop off the bike and wait. Rusty Spoke, run by volunteer mechanics on Grand Avenue, puts you to work alongside them, teaching you to diagnose, adjust, and fix your own ride with parts sold at cost. It rewards curiosity over helplessness, which makes it either charming or humbling depending on how you handle a hex key. The Grand Avenue bike lanes make the whole trip feel intentional.

Wild horses actually wander the Salt River banks here, which tends to catch first-timers mid-float. This is classic Phoenix summer activity: rent an inner tube, pick either a two-hour run or a longer five-to-six-hour drift, and let moving water do the work while the desert bakes around you. Otters show up too, unbothered. The shorter route draws a crowd; the longer one is quieter. Sunscreen is non-negotiable, and the rapids prefer a rigid body over a relaxed one.

A public tennis facility where the courts were recently resurfaced and reservations happen with a single phone call. Drop-in doubles, leagues, lessons, and ball machine time are all on the menu, and the lights stay on until 10:30 p.m. Court fees are a few dollars a session, which makes the regulars here less precious about their backhands than at most places. Phoenix New Times named it the best tennis courts in Phoenix in 2025.

Motorcycle jackets share rails with lacy tops and Y2K graphic tees at this Tempe thrift shop, where the owners' fashion backgrounds show in every rack. Prices run with cut-rate thrift stores, but the edit is far tighter, and upcycled denim gets the kind of rework you'd actually want. Inventory turns over daily, so there's always a reason to stop back in.

A rage room where you suit up in white protective gear, pick your targets (a computer, colorful bottles, assorted trinkets), and smash things to a playlist of your choosing. The vibe is deliberately inclusive, with a Pride flag at the front desk and signage whose language suggests the staff's commitment to welcoming everyone runs pretty hot. Adult nights add drinks to the destruction, and a neon paint room exists for those who'd rather make a mess than settle a score.

A Czech-owned sports bar on Broadway where the roast duck shares menu space with chicken wings and the back bar stocks Becherovka alongside the usual domestic taps. Pool tables, a Pac-Man cabinet, karaoke nights, and Avalanche games on the screens make it a full-service neighborhood hangout. Westword named it Denver's top bar for Avalanche games in 2025, which feels right for a place this cheerfully, improbably itself.

Hot pink walls and poster collages that look borrowed from a college dorm set the tone at this maximalist charm shop and trinket store in Scottsdale. The charm bar is the main event, with gold-plated options running from tiny martini glasses to handmade tomato seed charms, because a butter stick on your wrist is a personality statement. Clothing and a house swimwear line round things out. Groups can book time to browse together, which is the intended vibe.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with over 50,000 DVDs, Blu-rays, and games make this a video rental shop that has, against all odds, continued to exist. Superstar Video carries the latest releases alongside out-of-print rarities you won't find on any streaming service, and if they don't have it, the owner will track it down. New releases rent for a couple of dollars, which says everything about why people keep coming back.

A dedicated saltwater taffy department is either a sign of a candy superstore done right or a sign your dentist is about to buy a boat. Sweeties is a sprawling bulk-candy shop where nearly everything sells individually or by the pound, the shelves run floor to ceiling, and the childhood nostalgia is stacked as deep as the gumdrops. The staff is genuinely warm, which softens the blow of the inevitable sugar spiral on the drive home.