This past weekend I got to experience DC’s new no smoking ban. It was incredible. My lungs, hair, and clothes are so thankful that I have decided to send little gifts of appreciation to all members of the DC Council. I no longer have to air out my expensive club outfits after a night out.
The weather on Saturday night was rainy, so smokers were tightly packed under dry spots and conversed among themselves like they would in high school and college, rejects of society. While I usually look down on smokers, this is the first time I felt bad for them. Some may argue that drinking is not that different from smoking, but I have never stood out in the rain on a wet street to kill my screwdriver beverage. Smokers, addicted to a drug where hits are needed in fixed increments, don’t really have a choice, and must brave adverse environments to maintain normal physiological function. It must suck to depend on a smelly drug made by huge corporations just to live a normal life.
Me, inside the club breathing clean air:
Smoker, outside in the rain: