Gramps Getaway is Miami’s official “after” destination. Whether it’s after a long day at work, after a beach day, or after a successful beach cleanup where you collected 12 Barbie heads, the Key Biscayne palapa is a place where everyone can get a good whiff of fresh saltwater and just unclench from the stresses of this city. “Accessible waterfront” sounds about as oxymoronic as “peaceful Brickell.” Most places with a beautiful view of Miami’s waters are overpriced, unfriendly, and a little weird. But Gramps isn’t here to con you with $19 glasses of rosé in exchange for a nice view. Here, liveaboards and fishermen are welcomed with the same enthusiasm as bankers and vaping twenty-somethings. Some didn’t close out an important investment deal while others had scary standoffs with pelicans—problems that are worlds apart but can both be resolved with a frozen cocktail, good music, and a glistening fried chicken sandwich. Everyone’s in a good mood at Gramps Getaway (another rarity in Miami). A big reason why is the food. Like a good road trip playlist, the menu here has the usual suspects mixed in with some fun surprises. There’s familiar bar food like buffalo wings and burgers, as well as basil watermelon salad and skirt steak. But unlike other waterfront foes, the food isn’t an afterthought here. It contributes as much to the allure of the place as the view of the Brickell skyline that has everyone in a blissed-out trance. Gramps Getaway feels like a slice of old Miami, and it seems to know this too. Remnants of the people and places that came before this gigantic thatched roof are scattered around. Just above the bar is a lifesize cardboard cutout of Jimbo Luznar, a local legend who ran a charming rinky-dink waterfront operation in Virginia Key called Jimbo’s, which was great for many of the same reasons that Gramps Getaway is great. And the very same palapa that Jimbo hangs from used to be Whiskey Joe’s, a bar whose time came to an end—but whose legacy lives on through the timeless ‘70s rock playlist, sneakily potent frozen drinks, and creaky wooden floorboards spackled with decades of beach sand. Past and present meld together at Gramps Getaway to create something this obnoxiously exclusive city has never needed more badly: a party where every coconut shrimp-loving South Floridian is invited.