Theres something magical about Seven Seas Bar. Something more magical than David Blaine but a little less magical than a three-breasted mermaid whose third nip squirts out the cure for cancer. Perhaps its the cheap drinks, the ceiling tile plastered in random shoes, or the broken-toilet garden on the back patio. Or maybe, just maybe, its Seven Seas Bars karaoke nights. Held every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m., theyre so slamming that if Simon Cowell were present, hed break his karaoke cherry and bust out Frank Sinatras My Way. Weve been to Miamis fancier, hoity-toity lounges that dabble in karaoke, but we couldnt stomach the syrupy cocktails or the 40-year-old dental hygienists shrill, tearful renditions of Total Eclipse of the Heart. No, when our karaoke demon hankers for tunes, theres no better place to belt out Journeys Dont Stop Believing than the grimy, nautical Seven Seas. Theres no cover, but the drinks needed to reveal your inner Sinatra cost some green.