Smoking

It all began in 2001, on a school art trip to New York City. Our class was staying at a hotel in New Jersey, and a few of us decided to take advantage of the cigarette vending machines. Camel Lights. Soft packs.

I was 18 at the time - the minimum age to buy cigarettes in the U.S. In Canada -- Ontario, at least -- the age is 19. So in a way, buying cigarettes in the hotel lobby was a kind of rebellious; something I could get away with there, but not at home. But I also found it interesting to see how accepted smoking still was in the States. I hadn't seen a cigarette vending machine in Ontario in over a decade! Yet in New Jersey, they were wedged in between the Coke and candy machines.

In Canada at the time, the law dictated -- again, in Ontario, at least -- that cigarette manufacturers section off at least one third of the exterior packaging on their tobacco products for health warnings to the consumer. In bold, white letters on a black background, the packages read, Smoking will kill you! and, Cigarettes cause lung cancer! Since then, the writing has been replaced by graphic pictures of yellow teeth, blackened lungs and various statistics. Oh, and now these warnings have to cover half the package!

In the U.S., these warnings didn't exist. Instead, their packages had stickers you could peel away to reveal smoker points, which you could mail in for fashionable smoker-wear and other prizes. So in a weird way, I guess I kind of convinced myself that smoking didn't pose a threat in the U.S.

When I got back home, I still had my pack of Camels, which I brought to the fast food place I worked at. It was then that I gained an appreciation for the post-shift wind down with co-workers. Still, the smoking remained pretty casual.

A few months later, I was off to University, where I arrived a "non-smoker." (That's what my residence application said, anyway.) And to be fair, I didn't smoke for a month or two after arriving. But soon, the porch, which my room had the luxury of being closest to, became a frequent hangout on those crisp fall evenings, where I would often break for a DuMaurier with the people from my floor. Soon afterwards, though, the "breaks" included smoking while walking between classes... mid-class intermissions... the walk back from class. Et cetera. Before long, I had made friends who were smokers, which of course led to more smoking.

Add another summer of fast food smoke breaks, and another school year of smoking between classes and sometimes on the porch of the place I lived. In third year, I stopped. Same thing for almost all of my fourth year.

But now, after having worked at a job where cigarette breaks seem almost necessary for the past six months, it is the first time I have stepped away from the on-again, off-again "casual smoking" and become a genuine smoker. Not very heavy, but definitely consistent. And I've decided I don't want to be on this path. So I'm quitting. I don't want to associate with cigarettes anymore. For the past few days I haven't had one, and that's how it's going to be from now on. Cold turkey. I basically had one nerve-wracking day where I really wanted one, and I caved and bummed a couple from people at work. But since then, I've developed a cold, and with my system all clogged with phlegm, the last thing I want right now is to smoke.

What I plan on doing is replacing the cigarettes with the odd cigar. With spring a few weeks away, the barbeque will be fired up just about every night, and a weekly post-meal cigar would be okay by me. It's a lot more civilized and celebratory, anyway. Another masculine hobby that will go well with the straight razors.