Do You Smoke?

When I could still smell, I had a very good sense of smell. With many things, I could smell it before I could see it. The smell of pot is one of those smells I almost always smell before I see. While I was never a big pot smoker, when I smelled it, I always looked to see if I could figure out where it was coming from. I did this because it can often be amusing to be the straight person among the drunk or stoned. I never really cared for the smell of pot, but I did like when it signaled that things might be about to get interesting.

On the other hand, I used to love the smell of a freshly-lit cigarette. I was never a big smoker either. This was partly because I always had other things on which to spend money, and partly because the only time smoke smelled good was right at first. Stale smoke, on the other hand, is not a good smell at all. 

I used to spend my share of time in dive bars and pool halls, which are bad enough as far as stale smoke, spilled beer, and BO. But the worst of course was the morning after. I'd come home after a night of work, followed by a few hours playing pool or closing down a bar. I'd crash. I'd get up to get ready for school or work. I would sit up carefully, then stand and walk slowly to the bathroom. About the time I would think maybe I was going to get by with just a headache, I would step into the shower. If I was going to be sick, this was it.

Maybe because the smells of hairspray and grease and smoke and beer and whatever were just there when I woke up, they were part of me. The fact that they were all combined, and they were all a day older, and they were capped by a hangover, didn't register for some reason until my hair got wet. Then it all came back. The big hair and the small skirt, the beer and the shots, the cigarette held to keep track of where my fingers were when I caught a good buzz, the sounds of music and pool and voices, the greasy breakfast eaten late or early, depending on how you looked at it. Yep, if I was going to be sick, it was that smell of water on morning after hair that usually caused it.

Once I made it out of the shower, I was usually good to go. Another day older, as clean as I was going to get, and hoping things might get interesting again before the day was over.