Call me Ishmael.
I have been banished to the wilderness of the smoking area. I am a social pariah, exhaler of toxic gases, deliverer of death.
A little sign in my hotel room here in Puerto Rico explains, “For your convenience, this hotel has been designated a non-smoking property. Thank you for your cooperation.”
For my convenience, Puerto Rico has adopted draconian anti-smoking laws. Lighting up in hotels; restaurants; bars; casinos; automobiles with any child aboard; or anywhere at all where others can perchance be exposed to lethal secondhand smoke, also known as passive smoke, is a crime.
As more and more hotels ban tobacco, the only accommodations left with smoking rooms are likely to be the Dew Drop Inn of Raleigh-Durham or Ed’s Motel just outside Baton Rouge.
As for my old home town, I cannot smoke in Central Park. Unless it’s a joint.
In many places they have condemned e-cigarettes, which emit no smoke and no tars – just water vapor. The control freaks reign: no smoking, and no doing anything that looks like it.
See the full story here.
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