Miami’s heavy, but fickle crown jewel. Photo: Dylan Fleming
“Would you like some vitamin C, my friend” Carlo asked. As I wondered why my barber was asking me about vitamins, one of the other patrons chimed-in in a thick Cuban accent, “Oh, you mean some cocaine.” Carlo smiled and laughed, “You want some Cuban coffee? It’s rocket fuel, you know?” as he walked over to a little espresso machine.
I politely accepted his offer and moments later he handed me a tiny white mug of espresso loaded with sugar. I drank it and watched the blind opera singer Andrea Bocelli on TV, while Carlo shaved my face with a straight razor and sang along.