Today I stood in a movie line because a friend ask me to. Normally I avoid all lines at all cost; life is simply too short and I have yet to find something at the end of any line too valuable to pass up. It is not so much that I have a thousand things to do, as we all find ourselves wanton for time, it is more to address the issue that waiting is most frequently sands through the hour glass that may never be recaptured. Granted, a certain portion of my day is allotted to quiet time, however, meditation within earshot of a thousand conversations about absolutely nothing is impossible.
As my frustration simmered, I decided it was time for a smoke. Yes, I still smoke in spite of the warnings. If I listened to every warning offered me, I would still be on hands and knees without the personal ambition to wipe my own ass without specific instructions. Sometimes desires outweigh sensibilities and I am not one to rain on other's parades, so why indeed would I rain on my own?
So this chick in front of me was so outraged at this obvious affront to her well tuned regurgitation of current advertising spiel she let me have it with both barrels.
"Do you mind not smoking around me? Do you know second hand smoke is just as dangerous as smoking directly?" she asked.
"I had heard that," I responded, "But I have yet to find a legitimate study that makes it conclusive. Do you remember where you got that information?"
"Ask anybody. They'll tell you." she said.
"I prefer to hear directly from a qualified professional who has done first-hand and quantifiable research, preferably a blind study not financed by special interests. Forgive me if I don't take your word for it, or the word of a well-payed advertising agency for a fanatically closed-minded group with an axe to grind." I said. "Besides, those farts you've been squeaking out over the last half hour are far more toxic than this cigarette."
Somehow I had blurted that out without passion or rancor. Its tone was simply matter of fact that I, and others, had suffered this inconsideration for some length of time and opted, out of sympathy and our own consideration, to forego the embarrassment of confrontation.
"Well, I never." she said with a blush rising in her face as she turned away.
"Sweetheart, we are right behind you and my friend and I can attest that you have. I am not sure what you have been eating since the 1960's, but I can assure you it is far more offense than the smell of burning leaves. Besides, methane is not only toxic-it is also flammable. You really shouldn't be doing that next to a lit cigarette." I warned.
"I was born in 1985." she said with an affront.
"I would definitely get that checked then. I believe we have some Mastodon meat involved here." I retorted.
And that was the end of the issue. I am afraid the ah-ahs to my responses from the surrounding crowd left little doubt as to the malodorous source.
Personally, I have grown accustomed to the smell of cigarette smoke over the years-even before I smoked myself. Like incense, it has a soothing quality for me. On the other hand, I can remember a fart from decades ago from which I may never recover.
In the U.S. we have about 60 million smokers among 300 million people; all 300 million fart, most without regard for second-hand exposure.
Many are unaware that there are 250 million sheep in New Zealand that have created such a level of methane release into the atmosphere that scientists have attributed that release as partially responsible for the destruction of the ozone. I got that from the Wall Street Journal, circa 1998.
By the way, I have been known to hold an exhale of smoke in until I am well out of someone's face, and a fart until I am well out of someone's olfactory range. Yet, one must never forget-consideration is a two-way street.
"Live as if you will die tomorrow. Learn as if you will live forever." Mahatma Gandhi.
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