God I miss smoking

WHY does it have to be bad for you?

The other night I was sitting on the couch, listening to Neil Young and reading a Ray Bradbury interview in the fading light, the weather finally nice enough to have the windows open, and I thought, I could really go for a cigarette. My mind flitted to the pack I have stashed in a purse in the back of my closet; my eyes flitted to the porch door. Ben won’t be home for a few hours, I thought. No one has to know.

But, no. I have firm rules when it comes to my bad habits and they include NO SNEAKING. I enthusiastically declare my intentions when it’s time for one of the few cigarettes I allow myself each year. I reserve them for special occasions — holidays and group outings — and avoid them in moments of acute stress or mundanity. They’re not allowed to become routine again. A few a year is my sweet spot. It’s enough for me to enjoy it while also finding it so disgusting that I don’t want another one for a while. But the anticipation as the lighter flicks? Those first few drags and initial buzzy head rush? The payoff after months of denying myself?

Oh, baby.

I get excited about them, excited about having one with someone. I love that moment when you see a couple people slipping out the side door at a party and you know what they’re up to, when you make your excuses and slip out after them. You have cigarettes!? someone says, unable to keep the hushed, forbidden thrill from their voice. Suddenly we’re teenagers again. There’s a timeless allure to knowing something is bad for us and doing it anyway, believing we’re the exception to the rule.

I smoked plenty on my own but the communal aspect was always the main draw for me. I was a patio smoker, a rooftop smoker, a study break/party break/work break smoker, a sit around the fire and shoot the shit smoker, a greasy spoon and late night movie smoker. It’s how I met all my college friends — casually chatting outside the dorms for 5-10 minutes until we’d run into each other enough that we decided to hang out on purpose. It’s how I made my fair share of romantic mistakes — an unmatched flirtation device, already halfway to leaving the party together.

A couple years ago, a group of us were leaving a holiday dinner and giddily crowded around the one person who’d brought a pack. We lit up and the boys trotted out the party tricks of their early 20s. (I’m glad Ben doesn’t smoke anymore but when, on these occasions, he does that thing where you exhale a little bit and then quickly draw the smoke back in before exhaling again more slowly is still very effective.) Suddenly a guy came running down the street, yelling something. We paused our conversation and turned to him with apprehension, unsure if there was about to be a situation, until he got a little closer and we could make out his words.

“Smokers!” he yelled, pulling out his own pack. We widened our circle to make space for him as he explained that he never saw people smoking anymore, how it was such a surprise to spot our group on his way out of work. We chatted for a bit before saying our goodnights and heading our separate ways. It was the first time in years I’d thought about the serendipity and casual conversations with strangers that smoke breaks afford, and how nice that could be.

I have two competing memories of my first cigarette. First: Stealing one from my brother when our parents were out of town and he was ostensibly watching me. I smoked half of it in our driveway and buried the butt behind our garage, paranoid someone would find it and know. Second: A handful of us snuck into the coat room at The Chancery in the Tosa Village where we knew there was a cigarette machine. The host either didn’t realize what we were up to or didn’t care. We quickly fed our loose change into the machine and pulled a knob at random. I think we got Newports (lol). We made heavy use of our Victoria’s Secret body spray afterward.

Time spent hanging out with friends through my teens and 20s meant casual smoking. We’d post up in a both at George Webbs or Johnny Vs through high school, chain smoking and drinking bottomless coffees (I’d like to retroactively apologize to those waitresses). We smoked on the rocks at Summerfest, hoping no one’s parents walked by. I remember trying to keep up with my French exchange student one night and making myself sick. I used to buy them on my way to school, in my Catholic school uniform, at the gas station by my house where the attendant knew we were underage but didn’t care. I still cherish all the aimless drives we took, smoking in each other's cars, talking and listening to music for hours.

In college we smoked on rooftops, looking out at the twinkling Chicago skyline. We smoked outside bars and in between classes and on our various porches. I remember learning how to light a match from a matchbook with one hand and the way we’d all inevitably run out of cigarettes and end up harassing the one person who’d thought to buy a pack before heading out for the night. My favorite nights were when we all stayed in to watch a movie — crammed on sofas and laying on the floor (personal space didn’t really exist for us then) sharing a communal 30 rack and pack of cigs. We smoked inside at all of our college apartments, which seems crazy now.

I lived in Chicago when the 2008 smoking ban was implemented and moved back to Milwaukee shortly after its own ban. It seemed impossible, at the time, to change something so radically — it’s hard to imagine anything like it being successful now. But people adapted quickly and before long it felt crazy that we’d ever smoked inside to begin with. We went to Berlin in 2014 and walked into a bar one night (a bar that looked like it could have been on the East Side of Milwaukee, that made me realize why so many bars in Milwaukee look the way they do) and everyone inside was smoking. It was like we’d stepped back in time. We gleefully bought a pack from the machine by the bar and lit up. The next day we felt terrible and everything stank.

As much as I miss it, I’m at no risk of picking it back up in any regular sense. I quit for a reason and I’m not young enough anymore to think I can get away with something so obviously bad for you. I miss it because I was addicted to it, duh, but also for a whole slew of other reasons. I took to my Instagram stories and several group chats to conduct an informal poll and see how other former smokers felt about it now. Reading the responses surfaced long dormant memories and pretty much every answer made me go, oh my god yes! I present to you now those results.

Do you still sneak any?

Some of those Nos are lying to themselves…ask me how I know! (~30 responses)

What was your brand?

Camels (Lights and Wides) were far and away the most common answer, probably a result of the circles I ran in. I was a Camel Light girl myself — which I learned are now called Camel Blues after a confusing gas station exchange on my way to a party. But they were followed closely by Parliaments (mostly Lights, my personal second choice) and American Spirits. Honorable mentions go to Marlboros (Reds and Lights), hand rolled, and even a Capri smoker (how fancy).

What do you miss about it?

While one admirable soul said Nothing, multiple people said Everything, which…for real. Other responses included socialization (with strangers and friends) as well as the break from socialization it provided, giving people a chance to step away and be alone for a few minutes while also not feeling weird about standing around alone. Some people called out the initial rush or tingles it brought on. Others remembered specific routines: a cig with morning coffee, or a drink, or in specific weather, or while driving, or on work break. Others liked the comfort or sense of control it gave them. Some said even though they know how bad it is, they still think it looks cool, sexy, badass.

What makes you want a cig?

We could say everything again and call it a day, but here’s what people said, condensed and combined:

• Movies with lots of smoking

• Stress / control / lack of control

• Socializing / parties

• Traveling / vacation

• Alcohol / coffee

• Campfires / bonfires

• Driving / road trips

• Listening to specific bands / going to concerts

• Getting out of work after a long day

• Certain weather (MVPs: early summer, summer nights, rainy mornings)

• Politics

• Late night talks / long, meandering conversations

• Hanging out with old friends / reminiscing

• Nothing (brag)

Any favorite smoking memories?

Now, these responses came from my friend and family groups so a lot of them referenced people and places and events specific to us, but I was able to translate them more universally. I condensed the most common answers here:

• Greasy spoon diners, particularly in high school

• Rooftop parties in the city

• Good conversation and laughing with friends / often the highlight of the night out

• The first cig of the day / the first drag of the cig

• Intense planning / working / studying sessions

• Meeting people you would never meet (someone told me how they randomly met a guy who was in the World Trade Center on 9/11 while out on a smoke break)

• Party packs (the moment *I* started buying the party packs is the moment I knew I’d turned into my aunts, life comes at you fast)

• Lots of specific travel memories

What made you quit / was it hard?

Results were mixed here — for some it was really hard, for others it was nothing. The most common refrain was, It was hard until it wasn’t. That was my experience. I quit about 30 times before I really quit, and that last time it was easy — I just wasn’t a smoker anymore. It seems the biggest thing that helped people quit was a lifestyle change or a hobby that smoking was antithetical to: running, skiing, climbing, biking, etc. Getting older tends to mean fewer parties too, so the triggers above (socializing, booze, etc.) just weren’t as frequent, resulting in a natural weaning off. For others it was becoming a parent, watching loved ones get sick, or worries about Covid.

Anything else?

People love it and they don’t, they miss it and they don’t. Mostly they liked it as an activity — as something to do — and a way to pleasantly pass the time. For some it’s a relic from their youth. Smoking is cool as fuck, one person said, but we all gotta grow up eventually. They both love and hate the smell now. At least one thinks it should be totally illegal. The introverts among us really loved and miss smoke breaks. I agree with all of these sentiments, at least partially.

My favorite response though (don’t worry, I’ll protect your anonymity with my life):
I’m currently sneaking a cig so this feels weird.

Thanks to all who’ve ever shared a cig with me and to those who took time to answer my questions and walk down memory lane over the weekend. If you have anything to add (even/especially favorite pics of celebrities smoking), please share.

This week’s song on repeat

Find the whole playlist here.

The woman I'm thinking of
she loved me all up
But I'm so down today
She's so fine, she's in my mind
I hear her calling