Magic City Meh-moirs.

Remember that party you went to in senior year?

The awesome one with the keg by the pool? No wait, thats right, it had two Kegs!

Remember they threw that one guy in with his clothes on? And everyone started laughing?

And your best friend made ou- sorry, scammed that one girl he had been AIM'ing with for like three months?

Remember the cops showed up and it got broken up after like two hours and everyone had to leave?

Remember in the parking lot of the Wendy's ten minutes later you and all your friends started talking about how awesome the party had been?

And then one guy said, "Yo, I wish we made a movie about that party. Everyone would've seen how sick our jams are!"

And everyone nodded excitedly.

And then another guy, the guy who would later become a Visual Arts major or some other stupid shit like that, said, "No man, someone should make a movie about, like, our whole lives, like only senior year though, like a documentary, but like dramatic, you know?"

And everyone nodded, a little slower this time, trying to deal with how awesome that idea was.

And then a third guy said, "Who the fuck would want to watch our senior year? What makes you think our high school experience is special? What makes our situation compelling? The fact we have too much of our dad's money to spend? The fact we go to the old Marine Stadium on a boat and we have a rivalry with another school because they're so fundamentally different from us they must be the bad guys?"

And everyone started laughing, because they realized how stupid the idea was.

Then everyone bought $.99 5 Piece Chicken Nuggets and drove home happy.

But what if that third guy hadn't spoken up?

What if he was on the phone, trying to find another ghetty to drive to when this exchange occured?

What if Mr. Visual Arts kept this idea burning deep in his soul, a misguided crusade of less than questionable cinematic merit, even after he was picked up by some shitty agency (it rhymes with shma-radigm) that could only afford the rent in a converted Panera on the outskirts of Silverlake?

Well, this would happen.

It chronicles the rigors of being an upper-middle class private school kid in Miami with only a boat and lots of friends to assuage the horrors everyday suburban life. It's a miracle any second generation Cuban kids survive long enough to start working in their dad's contracting and construction company.

If there 's one thing this Hispanic version of "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist" teaches us, it's that Miami invented the concept of teenage angst, and thought enough of its novelty to feature it in a full length feature "film".

The major themes of the movie, Sex, Drugs, and Hip-Hop, are clearly exclusive to Miami. Even the music on the trailer, "Man on the Moon" by Kid Cudi (an artist that truly represents the spirit of the Magic City), leaves no doubt as to the origin of both the singular and powerful storyline, and the roots of those that struggled to bring this project to fruition.

If you thought "Slumdog Millionaire" was a deep and moving story, just wait until you get to watch three kids from a catholic high school with nice cars lament how hard it is to get a fake ID.

Hotel Rwanda doesn't have shit on trying to sneak Bacardi Coco and Smirnoff Ice into the rent at the Seacoast after senior prom.

You think your life is tough just because you have AIDS, Andrew Beckett from "Philadelphia"? How the fuck am I supposed scam the girls from my sister school this afternoon if I got a detention for being late to homeroom?

You don't know what life in the Magic City is like.

So step off, Bro.

Priorities.

(Part One of the Cops Being Douchebags series)

Miami is a pretty violent place.

Understand that while you're devouring noodles at Gigi or getting faded at Tobacco Road (OMG, SO AUTHENTIC!), bad things are happening.

In 2010, there were 6,613 violent crimes in Miami-Dade County.

Included in that number there were 84 Murders, 752 forced sex offenses, 1,851 robberies, and over 4,000 assaults.

Pretty sobering numbers, huh?

Of course, one would assume the fine men and women of the assorted police departments of the great city of Miami are hard at work stopping these horrible acts, right?

Wrong.

Apparently, the latest homeland security bulletin listed SW 87th Avenue as a high priority national security asset. Thats the only possible explanation as to why 87th Avenue is locked down tighter than the Berlin Wall every night. Trying to cross the street after midnight is as hard as trying to sneak out of East Berlin, harder actually because there isn't a Checkpoint Charlie to use for legitimate business.

After being swarmed by six police officers while attempting to drive across the street to my house and being made to walk home after my friend got turned away, I'm convinced that the police officers of Miami have their priories straight.

Why waste time on unimportant things like murders or the approximately 67 rapes and sexual assaults that occur every day when you can stop people from doing truly evil things like crossing a street where there's absolutely no construction or any other activity occurring.

I for one would like to applaud the assorted departments involved in the interdiction of this dangerous street, specifically the Florida Highway Patrol and the Miami-Dade Police, for their steadfast devotion to protecting the public from such terrifying acts as "using streets as they're intended to be used" or the ever omnipresent danger of "making right hand turns onto a major road".

Lord knows we'd be lost without these Shepherds to tend to us, a wayward flock of drivers who drive these streets every day. I sleep much more soundly because of these warriors keeping 87th Avenue clear of traffic.

Thank you Miami Police Officers, we'd be lost without you.

Problems.

You have problems.

You hate your job. Your car needs an oil change. You think BBC programming is funny. Your parents are cutting you off. Your dealer got a girlfriend. You have a pile of credit card bills from that Urban Outfitters shopping spree.

Believe me, you have problems.

But your biggest problem is that you think Miami is fucking awesome.

It's not by the way, remember that.