The initial disaster: A crew of music journalists are on their way to a secret warehouse party they learned about through a Facebook invite that promised to text the address one hour before the party. The main hipster, Salix (his parents named him after the Latin word for “willow tree,”) notices a Hipstamatic-like vignette shadow as he says his name to the bouncer, but shakes it off. Superstition is for people who haven’t read Bertrand Russell. As he starts to dance with a girl with an interesting face mole/ eyebrow ring juxtaposition, he hears a snap – the warehouse floor is breaking under the weight of a badly-policed guest list. Why oh why did people not adhere to the abandoned apartment’s patronage limits?!

The second chance: After watching his favorite bartender get impaled by an ironic bike horn after falling out the window, he suddenly “wakes up.” It was all just a dream. But wait … the Hipstamatic vignette is back … time to get out of there! He wildly Google Huddles all of his best friends that death is upon them, but only three decide to follow him out, mostly because they thought he left to smoke. As they light up outside, they’re shocked as the club starts collapsing in on itself. Betsy does the sign of a cross and Salix hands her a Xanax. They bond.

Death one: One survivor, Sammy,  is driving home from the mass funeral of post-punk aficionados. The camera zooms in on her appropriately black cigarette, a Djarum clove, and we know she’s about to go. The radio starts playing Atlas Sound’s “Logos” and she gets a push alert saying she was mentioned on Twitter. Suddenly she’s going up the freeway clover leaf the wrong way,which causes a semi to collide with the side rail. She pants and gets out of her sea foam green 1991 Honda to smoke, only to be impaled by 42 flying copies of Vice magazine.

Death two: Jake is hungry after talking to a cop who gives his pertly cared-for mustache the squinty eye. He stops at an Uptown-area dive bar and drinks several two-for-one gin and tonics, and then heads to Super America because all other real food joints are closed. As he stumbles to the hot snack center, he sees a foreboding owl on the horizon … er, stitched onto a french-braided girl’s tote. To comfort himself, he leans in to smell the relieving smell of burger dogs and Tornados, and his mustache suddenly gets caught in the roller grill. His face burns off.

Death three: Salix and Betsy think they’ve made it. They kiss and dry hump for awhile, but something’s not quite right. For some reason we keep focusing on the window air conditioning unit of Salix’s studio apartment. Betsy gets up to turn on James Blake, and right then Salix spills a PBR on himself. Whoopsies. Betsy laughs and trips, dropping her cigarette on his pants, which starts a minor fire. The laughingly pat it out, until the air conditioner explodes, making their bottle of Jameson blow up, sending shards of glass and balls of fire into their heads.

–Becky Lang saw Final Destination 5 tonight, and thought about how she would die in the movie

Check back Friday, for our Final Destination 5 review, if you, like, care.