I blame Hemingway. And my love for sweet, fruity cocktails. Picture it: Cuba, 2018, a bar that shall remain nameless (but touts a connection to Ernest himself), and daiquiris. I love me some daiquiris!
What’s the first rule of international travel? Don’t drink the water. This is a story of how ice is (shockingly) made from, you guessed it, water. Ice is not your friend in Cuba.
Three friends walk into a Havana bar, where they’re promptly and blatantly ignored by the bartender for a solid 20 minutes. Unbeknownst to each other, each of the friends is thinking how ridiculous the wait is and that maybe they should get the hell out of there. But the friends were trying to go with the flow and not be “that person”.
Big mistake.
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