America 1982-Chapter 447 - 71: Welcome to Little Havana

"Martin, do you know why I chose you as my assistant when that producer Stephen allowed every unlucky bastard to bring one?" Tommy said, walking down the airplane steps in a vest, beach shorts and flip-flops, as he shielded his eyes from the blazing sun. "Because you’re from Miami, and I love Miami. I love Little Havana, and I love those spicy Cuban girls who dance the hula in grass skirts!" Tommy said as he followed behind Martin, who was carrying two large suitcases.

"So, how long will it take us to get to the famous Little Havana from the airport?"

As Martin followed Tommy down the airplane, he set the suitcases down on the ground, "Boss, there’s something I need to clear up. While there is a Little Havana in Miami, and I did tell people in Los Angeles I was from Miami, in reality, I’m not familiar with Little Havana at all. I’ve never even been there once. The place I was raised is known as Little Haiti, also called Little Port-au-Prince. Cuba and Haiti, they’re two hostile countries. Cuba took money from the Soviet Union to practice communism, while Haiti took money from the United State America to firmly oppose communism. Plus, the U.S.’s attitude toward Cuban immigrants and Haitian black immigrants is completely different. Cubans enjoy better benefits than black people do, so even though people from Little Havana and Little Haiti both hate Americans, between themselves... uh... their relationship is as harmonious as Soviet soldiers and American soldiers."

After the two of them disembarked, a group of four or five people carrying cameras and sound equipment followed closely behind, with old Page among them.

"So, what you’re saying is, you can only take me to Miami’s black-filled Compton. Shit, you bragged in Los Angeles about scoring two Cuban ladies in one night. I want to see those sexy Cuban chicks, not go to Little Haiti. I want to go to Little Havana," Tommy said.

Martin kept talking non-stop as he followed behind Tommy, "There are spicy girls among black people too. I have a cousin, I can introduce you. But boss, between the two of us, we only have fifty dollars in cash. If we don’t eat or drink, and stay at the cheapest hostel, we can probably last two nights. But that’s only if we head to Little Haiti to seek out my contacts; they might let us stay without needing a security deposit or tax, thanks to me. Otherwise, we’ll likely end up looking for a vacant tent in the Haitian refugee camps."

Tommy ignored Martin’s advice, instead turning to look at the documentary crew in charge of following him, "Hey, if there’s anything not suitable for broadcasting, you’ll make sure it gets deleted, right?"

"Yes, sir," the head of the documentary crew, Nick Peterson, replied with certainty after having just finished adjusting the equipment.

He then approached Tommy to discuss the controlled script they had, "Mr. Hawk, according to our rough story outline, you just need to head to the Catholic Church on twelfth street in the Southern District and rely on charity food to stave off hunger. You should be able to spend the first night at the accommodation provided by the church. There you can express your sentiments about the poor..."

"No need for sentiments about the poor, I was a fucking poor person before and I don’t want to repeat that miserable life all over again. Overall, I like to do as I please. I will showcase my version of the American Dream. I won’t ask you for more money for the show, I’ll do whatever I wish, and you film whatever you want. Whether it’s broadcastable or not, that’s none of my concern. That’s that, now you can go back to *that machine. Martin, hail a cab, we’re leaving."

"To the Little Haiti I’m familiar with?" Martin asked uncertainly.

"To Little Havana to see the Cuban girls," Tommy said, hands stuffed in his beach shorts pockets as he walked on.

With suitcases in hand, Martin quickly followed, "When I was in Miami before, I heard that in Little Havana there’s a spot that hands out near-expiry food from fancy restaurants to the poor. Damn Americans, in Little Haiti, they don’t offer near-expiry food from fancy restaurants. That’s discrimination."

The documentary crew hesitated for a moment, then looked towards Page who seemed indifferent, "How do we persuade your boss to cooperate with our filming?"

"Listen to him," Page said, lighting a cigarette and speaking calmly.

Then, he gestured for the crew to follow him and keep up with the others.

Yes, Tommy, who had a few months of leisure time, ultimately could not dampen Stephen’s enthusiasm. He believed that the American positive energy tycoon show he had come up with would definitely win the best reality show trophy at the Emmy Awards.

Apart from Tommy and his assistant Martin, two other teams were drafted by Stephen; one was Jason and his girlfriend Susy, acting as his assistant, and the other was a group of brothers from the same period at the Stanford Phoenix Society.

Jason was banished to Sacramento, a small city in California, while the other group was sent to a little river town in Washington state. In fact, according to Stephen’s original plan, he intended to dump Tommy in Alaska. He had no desire to see Tommy leap to success, but rather wanted to watch him struggle for survival in the wilderness.

Although, according to the show’s public promotion, these people would have to fend for themselves, showcasing the process of going from a down-and-out poor person to becoming wealthy again, even Stephen, who was convinced he could win an Oscar, did not believe that the American poor could easily realize the American Dream and become wealthy.

For this reason, they designed many realistic-looking scripted scenarios. In those cities, they had also arranged for temporary actors, so essentially, by following the prompts from the filming crew, participants could receive help from these kind-hearted actors. Ultimately, they would gradually accumulate wealth and become rich step-by-step, fulfilling the great American Dream.

But Tommy had no intention of staying in the lousy communal dormitory offered by the church as required by the show. He chose Miami to vacation in, and being on the show was just incidental.

When the taxi stopped in the heart of Little Havana on Calle Ocho, Tommy couldn’t wait to pull open the car door and get out, leaving Martin to pay the fare with a pained expression.

This was Little Havana in Miami, called the "Capital of Latin America" by countless Latin people who have moved to the United States.

Even just the tourists and pedestrians active in this central plaza made Tommy feel that there were more people than the entire population of Warwick City.

Down the street were shops with stone walls featuring Baroque-style arcades and a strong Cuban flavor. The air was filled with the scents of cigars and coffee. Moreover, many good-looking women wearing Latin-style attire gracefully flitted around the plaza, peddling various small goods. If they ran a bit faster, they could stir up flocks of pigeons that took off in droves.

In New York, it was still the cold season, but here, American tourists from the north on vacation in the south were everywhere. They were either snapping photos non-stop with their cameras, sitting at open-air coffee shops tasting handcrafted Latin American coffee, or feeding overly friendly and nearly flightless overweight pigeons with bread crumbs on the benches.

Some street artists, appearing to be of Latin descent, were tinkering with various musical instruments around the plaza, playing bursts of pleasant rhythms. Some people even danced along with the music, performing rhythmically intense dances.

"This is what vacation is all about," Tommy mused when a beautiful woman wearing a straw hat and light clothing, allowing large patches of fair skin to bask in the sun, perhaps of Spanish descent, approached him briskly. She showed him a tray of goods she was carrying, which included cigars, sunglasses, wooden carvings, and other small items.

The lady slowly slid a fully wrapped cigar between her cleavage, puffed out her chest, and said to Tommy confidently,

"Would you like to try an authentic Cuban cigar, sir? You can pick whichever you like, just take it by hand. Welcome to Havana."