Nearly 200 prehistoric giants lurk among the trees at this theme park.

Manatees congregate around a power plant's discharge canal where the water is especially warm.

These former theme park figures have a new lease on life outside a water plant-turned-restaurant.

Like Mardi Gras, only everyone's a pirate.

The strip club's VIP lounge is actually a rare repurposed Futuro House.

A gleaming white tower in ornate Indian style soars above the low-slung bungalows of north Tampa.

The highest point in Virginia can only be reached by passing through ponies and flowers.

A cabin completely covered in coffee mugs, where visitors are welcome to leave one of their own—if they can find an empty nail.

A ghost town that was wiped out by a flood in 1940.

A tribute to a hometown hero and surfing legend.

A towering, steel behemoth that has graced the skyline of Lakeland, Florida since the early 1980s.

No monkeying around, this fountain was really named after the classic sci-fi film.

The remnants of two World's Fairs are here, complete with a 12-story globe, a mini-Manhattan, and a UFO-shaped pavilion.

The 28-foot granite map plots the locations of 40 theaters in New York City.

A pedestrian island in the middle of world-famous Times Square emits a strange (and purposeful) humming noise.

This historic address is home to the beloved ball and is an almost totally empty building among the most expensive real estate in the world.

The fanciest public restroom in New York City boasts fresh flowers, art, and a classical music soundtrack.

A 19th-century politician who died after walking home in a blizzard is honored with this Manhattan statue.

A trove of century-old litho stones from the Puck Building's printing days were discovered behind a cellar wall, and are now hanging in the store.

Order scoops of pandan, lychee, and black sesame at this family-run institution.

Avoid gangster interaction while window-shopping.

Dine on dumplings at the oldest dim sum restaurant in New York.

Unrepaired walls from a 1920 anarchist bomb attack.

A clock set into the concrete outside a Manhattan jeweler has been telling time underfoot for over a century.