Smoke Got in His Eyes
by
Sam Loschiavo
"Ah, that feels good," Joe sighed as he dragged on his cigarette, inhaled deeply, and coughed incessantly for nearly a minute. Joe was angry at his relatives, friends, and acquaintances telling him for the thousandth time that smoking was bad for him. He knew they were well-meaning but he simply didn't care and didn't want to be reminded at every turn by what he termed the holier-than-thou non-smokers. "Goddamn do-gooders," he would mutter under his breath.
Joe was irrationally incensed by people in bus shelters who, as soon as he lit up, would remark: "Hey, buddy, no smoking in here," as they pointed to the familiar red circle with a diagonal red slash across a cigarette.
Joe didn't care. What he did care about was a comfortable place where he could enjoy a cigarette. Practically all government and office buildings were smoke-free, and if he tried to sneak a smoke in the lobby some busybody security guy would come up to him and tell him that he had to go outside to smoke. More and more restaurants were adopting a no-smoking policy. Even fast food places were no longer allowing smoking, and there was talk about prohibiting smoking in bars and cocktail lounges. Joe fondly remembered the good old days when one could smoke anywhere and everywhere without constraint.
"What is the world coming to?" he exclaimed, as he walked along the sidewalk with a coffin nail dangling from his lips, leaving a trail of smoke which other pedestrians walking behind him tried to avoid.
"It's getting as bad as the time when women were making all kinds of trouble trying to get the vote. Now agitators are trying to prevent me from smoking wherever I want. Why don't people mind their own business? They're free not to smoke in an office or restaurant, so why shouldn't I be free to smoke in those places? Who says it's a free country when people can force their will on others? What about my rights?" Joe didn't stop to consider that he had an inherent right to breathe clean air but not to smoke. Logic wasn't his strong point when it came to smoking. He paused to cough and then lit another cigarette.
"I'm sick and tired of people telling me that there's a difference between ignorance and stupidity, and that it's stupid to continue smoking when we know more today than we did forty years ago about the health risks of smoking. I don't care that there's a link between smoking and lung cancer. No one has ever really proved it. The tobacco companies were absolutely right when they ignored the experiments showing that monkeys inhaling tobacco smoke developed lung cancer. They said that the only thing the experiments proved was that monkeys shouldn't smoke. My answer to the ignorance versus stupidity line is "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise."
"I'm grateful to those tobacco companies that have boosted the amount of nicotine in cigarettes. Now a smoke is a lot more satisfying, and we're getting more value for our buck. God knows, we deserve it considering the price of a pack of smokes. I really don't care that we're called nicotine addicts. And I don't care when the do-gooders look at us disgustedly for throwing cigarette butts on the sidewalks or building entrances. That's the only way we can get back at the system."
Joe has lots of company. A recent newspaper item reported that volunteer trash collectors picked up 1.35 million cigarette butts from beaches in the U.S.A. Those butts accounted for about one-quarter of all the litter collected. If stacked end to end they would rise 77 times higher than the Sears Tower — the highest building in the U.S. The number of butts in outside litter is increasing because smokers like Joe are being pushed out of the workplace. Smoldering butts are a major cause of fires. Yes, indeed, the smoking Joe's and Jane's of the world have a lot more to account for than just their own personal health.
One day one of Joe's non-smoking friends showed him a news item describing the evacuation of an apartment building.
One apartment was set on fire by a tenant who fell asleep on the couch with a cigarette in her mouth. Ironically, she died from smoke inhalation from the burning apartment, not from her cigarette. What was Joe's reply?
"I don't care," he croaked during a long fit of coughing.
A year later, Joe's friend noticed Joe's obituary in the newspaper. Fate had finally kicked him in the butt. The notice read that he had died of emphysema after a long illness in the cancer wing of the hospital. Joe didn't care for the last time. The friend felt obliged to attend Joe's funeral and pay his respects. Except for himself and two family members, no one else was present. His relatives, friends and acquaintances didn't care either.