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.