Ode to Smokers

When I first thought about writing this post, I was planning to show what little sympathy I sometimes feel for smokers who have no where to go these days. Since then, I have changed my mind, but let's start at the beginning.

At our old apartment, I had one very strict rule about smoking. No smoking inside was a given, but I did not allow smoking on the veranda as well. This is because verandas in Japan are not typically used for one's leisure. They are used for laundry and garbage, so the last thing I wanted was for our newly-washed clothes to smell like smoke or god-for-bid for our laundry or garbage to catch on fire. I also did not want the risk of smoke-stink to rush inside the house every time one opens the patio door just after smoking. I made Suk smoke outside the entrance door to our apartment. He kept an ashtray can out there, and after much complaining, he seemed to get used to it. At first he was embarrassed, and I said, "If smoking embarrasses you so much, perhaps you should quit."

Then, four years later, we moved to our new condo and since we own the goddamn place, you would think Suk would be able to enjoy the freedom of smoking in front of his own entrance door, but NO. The day after we had moved in, the Condo Association guy was walking around and he rang our door bell. No, it wasn't to introduce himself and welcome us to the building. It was to inform us that ashtray cans should not be left out front as it might cause problems for neighbors. The wind, I suppose could cause ashes to blow onto neighbors' entrance areas. Fair enough.

I truly felt sorry for him as he begrudgingly moved his can to our veranda, but I sternly reminded him that the veranda rule would not be changing. However, we live on the 12th floor and it is a long way down every time he wants to have a smoke. For the first week or two, I never saw him smoking. I know that he attempted to go down to the strip of grass just behind our building a few times, but that proved to be too strenuous. I thought maybe he had quit, or that he had taken to smoking only at work. What a dream either of those scenarios would have been.

But, last weekend, he went out on the veranda to smoke...not once, but twice...and right in front of me. I was not myself though. I had come down with a bad chest cold, and just didn't have the energy to gripe about anything, so I said nothing.

Another thing is that my ultra-annoying new co-worker who tends to make an ass of himself in drinking situations tried to have a debate with me about smoking and how it is his right to smoke, and he doesn't give a shit if it bothers anyone else, and that he's going to die anyway, and that he's been smoking for 23 years and he ain't gonna stop now. There was no arguing with him. What's the point in arguing with someone when he is of no relation to you and you couldn't give two shits whether he lives or dies? Suk, on the other hand, I do care about and I like to give him the argument about how smoking can affect your sperm, and he's always like, "RE-E-E-EALLY?"