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The ancient tribe known as South Floridians was an odd and mysterious bunch. In the early 21st century, they clogged their region's highways, developed every available acre of land regardless of environmental impact, spent money they didn't have and worshipped their age's most important citizens, a class known as "celebrities," who would frequent the exclusive island enclave called South Beach. Recent archaeological excavations have provided additional clues as to who these people were and how they lived. Forthwith are described the seven wonders of ancient South Florida.

The Pyramids of Davie

As any half-bright student of the ancient history of the southeastern area of Sector 25 -- formerly the state of Florida in the United States -- knows, the Pyramids of Davie were the only structures to survive the Great Davie Fire and Cowboy Riot of 2059. Given the number of bodies in the eastern pyramid, a site called Forest Lawn South at a location indicator known as 2401 Davie Road in ancient times, it seems obvious that this particular Davie pyramid was, as are so many of these ancient structures, a "mausoleum" dedicated to the ritual storage of dead bodies. Of course, many bodies were washed away and the pyramid partially submerged by the Glacial Thaws of Gore (2100-2250), but many relics of archaeological value remain. Comparisons may be drawn to other pyramids throughout history, including the most famous one, the Great Pyramid at Giza, the longest-surviving of the original Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, which was memorably imploded in 2012 in a live pay-per-view event to make room for the Luxor Casino and Resort: Cairo.

Unlike the eastern pyramid, the western Davie pyramid, at location indicator 15601 Sheridan St. and known in ancient times as the Muvico Paradise, contains no trace of corpses, cremated or otherwise. Given the amphitheaterlike structure of many of the western pyramid's rooms, modern scientists believe the place served a religious function, in which common people would make pilgrimages to the site to worship "celebrities," the highest social class of the time. Assumed by many common folk to be half-human and half-god, these celebrities would appear in gigantic form on a screen at one end of each of the amphitheaters. While such worship of what amounted to little more than commonplace entertainers seems a bizarre concept to the modern mind, we must remind ourselves not to judge these people by present-day standards.

The Dania Beach Hurricane roller coaster

More than 10 stories high, the eye-catching wooden skeleton known simply as The Hurricane continues to loom over the I-95 thoroughfare. Working from 500 pages of architectural diagrams and using more than a million feet of Southern yellow pine, artisans from as far as Antioch, Tenn., labored seven days a week to create the legendary roller coaster. The dynamic of this thrill ride centers on what was referred to at the turn of the 21st century as the "double out and back." Two five-car transporters disembarked the station, traveled a certain distance, then turned around and came back. By 2005, the rickety relic no longer excited thrill-seekers, but a small following continued to practice a ritual in which they held their hands overhead when dropping from the feeble 100-foot incline. Today, the coaster is more of a monument than a functioning attraction, but Web sites dedicated to its existence lead us to believe the monstrous configuration can still actually be used for amusement. Few witnesses have observed it operating in recent decades, but archaeologists excavating the site of a nearby miniature golf course have unearthed an artifact that can be traced back to the Hurricane's heyday: the remnants of an all-day wristband.

The Golden Glades Interchange

The archaeologists who discovered this overlapping maze of concrete and steel in what was called Miami-Dade County initially wondered if it had been built to support some ancient competition similar to the chariot races in Rome. But wheel tracks found on the site indicate vehicle traffic on the structure was frequently too slow to allow for racing. The ancient South Floridians actually used such obsolete, teetering structures as this for transportation. A historic Weblog has revealed that the stupidest citizens spent hours on these crumbling structures every day trying to reach a destination of employment. At dawn, this mass of doltish people would leave their concrete-block homes and head south on the "interchange," and then repeat the process in reverse at the end of the day. While signs of human sacrifice have been discovered here, most scientists believe the daily trip involved self-flagellation.

Sawgrass Mills

The voluminous, late-20th-century temple known as Sawgrass Mills likely served as a center of worship and commerce, a place just east of a river of grass where citizens gathered to make sacrifices to the gods of electronics and fashion. Honeycombed with more than 300 rooms, all of which were equipped with altars called "cash registers," the palatial structure welcomed ancient South Floridians who would form long lines to exchange currency for garments, shoes and other amenities. From all points on Earth, a multiethnic congregation flocked through a series of grand ornamental gates, which were adorned with the names of long-extinct animals such as "Blue Dolphin" and "Pink Flamingo." After finding a place to leave their primitive conveyances, pilgrims would trek sometimes hundreds of feet over blazing asphalt. Once inside the massive structure, congregants would enter into a euphoric state as they paid homage to gods such as Nike, Neiman Marcus, Ralph Lauren and T.J. Maxx. Massive clearings known as "food courts" served libations and comestibles to hungry pilgrims. Archaeologists recently uncovered the head of a mechanical gorilla but are uncertain of its significance.

The Swap Shop bridge

While many people continue to gaze with wonder at this ancient, school-bus-yellow bridge that crosses a road once known as West Sunrise Boulevard, researchers believe residents used this bridge to walk from a cutthroat, paralyzingly pungent commerce center known as a "flea market" on the north side to a parking lot on the south. Today, the structure houses a museum that displays objects from the market and its adjoining entertainment venue, called a "drive-in theater." An enterprising couple named Betty and Preston Henn opened the theater in 1963 and, three years later, began operating a "rummage sale" that eventually became the Swap Shop. Historians say entertainers, including the Hanneford circus family and the much-beloved St. Willie Nelson, performed on the site. The museum's centerpiece is a bizarre-looking man of tin who stood watch on the bridge for years. He is flanked by a pair of silver lions and appears to be leaning forward and flexing his muscles. Museum operators have dubbed him Naugle, a reference to James Naugle, the mayor of the lost city of Fort Lauderdale who famously came out of the closet in 2007 after years of making virulently homophobic comments directed at the area's sizable gay population. (Students of history know him as Queen Naugle, as he preferred to be addressed following his coming-out.) The museum's collection also includes a large saddle that is still redolent of elephant, decorative pins reading "Where's the bargains?" and grills, widely popular gold dental fixtures that were sold out of cars in the Swap Shop parking lot.

The steps of Casa Casuarina

Erected in 1930 as a tribute to the son of 15th-century genocidal maniac Christopher Columbus, Casa Casuarina in Miami Beach is today best known as the ancient altar where fashion god Gianni Versace was sacrificed in 1997. The steps leading up to it are all that remain, though they have crumbled over the centuries due to the early 21st century migration of female pilgrims, known at the time as "gold diggers," who stomped the grounds in hideous footwear called Manolo Blahniks. The pilgrims came in search of much-older and often oily men who drove electric chariots bearing jaguar emblems or the cryptic letters "BMW" on their hoods. These men were easily identified by their comb-overs and condescending attitudes, and often suffered from a debilitating disease known as "middle age."

Century Village

Societies have long sent their unwanted masses off to remote areas to die. In South Florida, the hallowed ground where the patriarchs and matriarchs of Northeastern families were sent to expire was called Century Village. This massive community that formed in 1968 and spread across two counties and four cities -- West Palm Beach, Boca Raton, Deerfield Beach and Pembroke Pines -- was composed of tiny condominiums stacked several stories high and packed into heavily guarded areas. It greeted residents with the slogan, "We give years to your life, and life to your years." Before long, the village developed a life of its own and housed nearly 10,000 elders. The residents were infamous for being 4 feet tall, dying their hair blue and driving 25 mph on I-95. Local shopkeepers became fearful of yet reliant on the legion of zombielike creatures that wandered around in the heat with dazed expressions and pockets filled with prescription medication. Little else is known about the residents of these communities other than their affinity for prune juice and worship of a short-shorts-wearing god named Richard Simmons.