It's possible to live in Miami and be awesome, but it's not possible to be anything like Sean and live in Miami and be worthwhile. I just have this image of him standing in line forever to get into some sticky club in some sad metro suit that is just a little too much for his coolness, and finally passing the guy a fifty to get in, because what does he spend his money on? Nothing. Gadgets. Maybe he's got a cat. He doesn't have a hell of a lot of friends, and if he does, they aren't fun. They don't go out, and if they do, it's to the place that was cool last month, and maybe not even that, maybe it's like one of those sad theme places with like shepherd's pie. REM and Oasis on the jukebox, trivia contests on Thursday nights. Buying twice the rounds that anybody else does, because what's all that income for, if not making people happy? And when they ask him to do an Austin Powers voice, he'll actually do it. Sober, he'll do it. And he will feel universally accepted and loved and included in the American dream while they are laughing. Looking for the girl who's just blurry enough that she'll leverage the accent against the rest of the package, and meanwhile his meathead friends are pulling ass left and right, and he gets too drunk on Red Bull and Vodkas and maybe dances alone in a corner or lectures some random person about something, and the meathead friends are like, "That's our crazy British friend, isn't it sad," and then they finally have to stick him in a taxi and when he gets home the last thought as he snuggles into bed is, "What a kick-ass night."