The red and black ship cuts through the waters of Matanzas Bay, its sails waving in the wind. On deck, members of a pirate crew call one another by names such as Oly Mackarel, Jaybird, Anastasia, Clipper, and Dirty James as they cavort between bow and stern, dazzling their audiences. Their ship, the Black Raven, was designed as a floating live performance theater—and accommodates more than 120 passengers as a crew of performers in full buccaneer dress produce interactive and dynamic plays in the spotlight. The actors work the crowd with a variety of rehearsed but unscripted skits, geared toward audiences of all ages, and may change their performance to engage specific audience members.
They tell a tale to quake your bones at Warehouse 31—on October 13, 1875, a woodcutter by the name of Billy Turner killed his nine-year-old daughter in a horrific accident. Unable to cope with his grief, Turner killed himself. But the pain was too great for death to assuage. Soon Pelham was under siege from a series of mysterious events. A young girl found roaming unattended along a railway. The sound of a chainsaw echoing from the forest. Glass doors sliding open as soon as somebody stepped in front of them. Today, Warehouse 31 stands on the site of that ill-fated lumberyard, and guests can experience some scares of their own, thanks to a cast of monsters, high-tech animatronics, and gravely unhinged clowns.
Fresh seafood, juicy steaks, wine and craft beers from around the world. It's all just part of the experience of dining at 386, which is located within a shady oak forest in a building reminiscent of Old Florida. Chefs draw on a variety of American culinary traditions to make their menu. Shrimp and grits reference the South; aged steaks mirror those prepared in West; scallops are cooked in the northeastern style; bowls of chicken scaloppini over pasta refer to the state's Noodle Territories. Every dish is painstakingly arranged to be as attractive to eyes as it is to taste buds, with drizzles of sauce and expertly balanced bites forming edible art pieces.
A massive big-screen television casts a festive glow across Wing City’s dining room. Pitchers of beer slosh atop tables next to sizzling plates of finger food, including wings doused in 20 types of sauce. Specialty sandwiches, such as classic burgers and philly cheesesteaks, provide filling meals or tasty footballs in case patrons are inspired to go long.
An endless amount of stories flicker across the screen at these cinemas, which offer stadium seating and digital sound. The theater plays films chosen from Hollywood’s newest releases, featuring stars just plucked from the vines where they grow in the California hills. Between whispered critiques of each preview, audience members can wash down fluffy kernels of popcorn with soda from the concession stand. The theater also opens its doors for birthday parties and large private screenings for up to 300 guests.
Belting out karaoke can be a scary prospect for some, but Stage 7 offers a remedy for this particular brand of stage fright. Inside their private karaoke rooms, groups of three to 30 can sing alongside their friends, secure in the knowledge that they will not be mocked by strangers or have their uvula photographed without their consent. Rooms of varying sizes are furnished with sofas and tables so visitors can relax and socialize while they choose from a selection of more than 7,000 English-language songs?which range from classic rock to Top 40?as well as thousands more in Mandarin, Korean, Japanese, and Filipino. Waitresses ferry snacks and drinks to each room, keeping singing pipes well-oiled with sake, soju, domestic beers, and imports such as Tsingtao and Asahi.