Some go to find love, others to drown their sorrows. The rest of us visit simply for a warped refuge from reality. They're dive bars, the true rebels among the shiny, expensive nightclubs and their overpriced cover charges. El Rincon de Quisquella is the epitome of a dive bar in all its dilapidated, seedy glory. Located just south of Opa-locka, it's frequented mostly by locals who live and work nearby and arrive by foot. If you drive, you might never find it, since it's inside an ambiguous, unmarked building. The only signs of life are a green light shining on the door and a security guard, who, on certain nights, is the only one who speaks English. There are cracks in the walls, toilets without seats, coke baggies on the floor in the bathroom, and stains on the ceiling but that's all part of Quisquella's charm. Be sure to bring cash, since Quisquella's six-dollar cocktails can't be paid for with a credit card. And speaking of booze, the alcohol selection is as shabby as the dive itself: A few half-empty bottles of tequila and vodka sit behind the bar and appear to have come straight from the staff's own private stock. Nevertheless the majority of imbibers stick to Coronas. Around midnight on a Friday or Saturday, the regulars crowd the bar to flirt with the ladies and dance to the DJ's mix of salsa and Latin music. The women are surprisingly agreeable, usually dancing with any man who approaches them. This may be due to the bar's seemingly close-knit circle of patrons. It's hard to say, though outsiders are watched carefully and should feel honored to catch a glimpse of this bizarro Miami bar.