Confessions of an ex-smoker

Years ago I used to smoke, and although it was no more than a pack a day and more like a half-a-pack, it was still enough to be considered a smoker, something I'm very ashamed of about my previous life.

Oh, but at the time I was shameless because there was nothing like that feeling a rush of cigarette smoke could give a person in that first toke.

You know I think the tobacco companies are the ones who invented beer or at least perfected its mass marketing. Because any ex-smoker will tell you, there is nothing better than a cigarette with a beer.

I envision this big meeting at one of the Tobacco companies, “Ah Dick, they seem to be on to us about this whole “bad for your health” thing and many people are quitting.”

They all drop to their knees, “God of Sir Walter Raleigh, give us a sign. How can we get these people to stop quitting?”

Sir Walter Raleigh's reply, “I give you beer! A few sips of that and they’ll be flicking their Bics! Drink up and light up!”

Quitting smoking was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. It’s amazing what the dastardly Nick-O-Tine can do to you. They said Jeffrey Dahmer had voices talking to him. Sometimes during those times when I unsuccessfully tried to quit smoking, I had things like my ceiling fan or the refrigerator talking to me.

I’d be going through one of my quitting phases and I’d lie on the floor and just stare up at the ceiling trying to focus and soon my attention would drift and I’d find myself trying to make my eyes go as fast as the ceiling fan does, you know so you can catch a glimpse of the blades. Soon, I started hearing, in a low murmur…"Marlboro Light flip top box". Then it’d get a little louder… "Marlboro Light flip top box" … and soon it would be almost conversational talk… "just buy the damned smokes!" So off I’d go to the nearest convenience store, because that's what the ceiling fan told me to do, and I'd fork over a few bucks for a ride on the Nick-O-Tine Express -- in the smoking section of course.

I remember I perfected the art of fixing a broken cigarette. What some people saw as a missed opportunity, I’d see as a chance to exercise my creativity. I couldn’t change the oil on my car, but I was Mr. Goodwrench at fixing a broke cigarette especially if it were the last one in the pack and the store was a long ways away.

There's an old saying an ex-co-worker of mine used to say when someone asked if he smoked. He'd reply, "I don't smoke, the cigarette does. I'm just the sucker behind it." It was meant to be funny at the time, but years later I now realize how true his words were.