SMOKE AND MIRRORS

By Manila Chansmouth

Let me first begin by admitting my dirty, little secret. I am a smoker. I've smoked since age 16; almost half my life. I grew up in Los Angeles, a town that virtually outcasts you for indulging in such a guilty pleasure.

You can imagine then, being a smoker in a healthconscious town was always an uphill battle. The need to quell my nicotine craving has put me toeto-toe with tofu loving, gym-junkies numerous times. This was even at places you expect to encourage smokers - clubs, bars, restaurant patios, even parties. You get my drift. But alas, smoking indoors was banned in every public building, no matter what the venue.

From LA to NYC – no smoking! Some cities in California have even banned smoking outdoors in a public environment, if you can believe that Astonishing. The very town I was born and raised in. The very town that created all the TV shows and films we adore, with characters that light up sent me the message, albeit a mixed one, that it is not okay to smoke.

Fine, I respect other people’s lungs (especifically children, pregnant women, and the elderly). I don’t deliberately want to annoy those around me or subject folks to something they hate.

So I must leave the comforts of my bar stool, the warmth of the lights, excuse myself from company and run around to the back alley where I can soothe the screaming urges that course my veins in peace. Just me, my cigarette and alley cats.

But then I came to Dubai.

After a 22-hour plane ride, deprived of the company of 20 little friends I carry in a box in my purse, I was anxious to get reacquainted but fully expected that we’d have to have our bonding in some obscure corner of the airport terminal.

No sooner than when I stepped outside those sliding, plate-glass doors, I was greeted with a familiar scent. Everyone was smoking! I quickly joined the bunch and realized that this town didn’t mind.

As most 20-somethings do upon arrival in Dubai, I hit the town’s clubs and bars. They had ashtrays and free matches. I could actually enjoy my drink with a cigarette (as most smokers would agree, quite possibly the most divine combination since Italians put cheese on flat bread). I thought I had found joy. I had found brethren, kinship, common ground with so many strangers.

In these clubs, I enjoy my over-priced beverage, music I like set at decibels suitable for a parade, and my cigarette...and everyone else’s cigarettes. I attempt to see through the plumes of smoke to find my friends but it becomes a painstaking task, as my eyes water like a girl stood-up on prom night. And then my dream-come-true became an eye-stinging nightmare. Every single bar, club, even hotel lobby, coddled me and my habit.

Worse yet – they allowed every smoker to do so indoors.

This wasn’t a special favour they were doing for me or a select few.

There have been extensive restrictions on smoking in the UAE, but hotels can still designate an outlet. I won’t name the clubs or bars that are smoking me out but if your intimate, little hot spot is at max capacity and the majority of the patrons smoke, did it ever occur to you to open a window? I can think of a few very popular clubs who don’t have windows. For them – turn up your air conditioning! My point is to keep it ventilated.

Never did I imagine that I could understand what a non-smoker feels like when I light up. Not only am I crammed into these clubs like a sardine, making it too difficult to actually dance, but I fear for my flesh at every turn.

Lit cigarettes threaten to set my product-coiffed hair ablaze and actually cause bodily harm. Who likes cigarette burns? I’m being serious now.

Emphysema is one thing, but no butts about it, don’t mess with the product. That’s serious where I come from.