On smoking.

I started out of boredom.  I was 19, working at a liquor store, and once the shelves were stocked and the surplus stashed away in the basement, there wasn't much else to do.  The old-timers taught me Zippo and matchbook tricks.

In my early 20s, I smoked for pleasure.  Switched over to menthols to match my rolling/tripping habits.  If you have to ask why, I probably shouldn't be getting into it on the internet.  Suffice to say it worked.

When I started bartending, I smoked out of necessity.  Once the smoking ban went into effect, it was the only way to guarantee a break every hour or so.  And believe you me, when you're working FoH that hard in a shitty dive, you need to get away every now again to regain your center.

I was 28 or 29 when I finally quit.  Can't remember exactly when; it was the last January I was living in TriBeCa.  Prices were going through the roof, and, aided by a particularly nasty case of the flu, I dropped the habit cold turkey.

Only to pick it up again in full last year.  It started with a drag stolen from my employees now and again, a little something to take the edge off the crushing stress of running two locations by myself.  Drags became cigarettes, cigarettes became packs.  And before I knew it, I was back in it.

I've heard it said that you never really become an ex-smoker.  You're just a smoker who hasn't had one in a while.  See, addiction's a tricky thing.  It sneaks up on you.  You keep telling yourself you're in control, you can stop at any time, and one day you wake up and realize things aren't that simple.  It's not just your body that craves the nicotine, it's your head needing the habit, the ritual, the calm the repetitive motion, the inhaling and exhaling it entails.  You start the motions before you realize what's happening.  You make excuses for yourself.  You rationalize your behavior.  You reassure yourself you'll stop when the time is right.

You can tell me it'll kill me all you like.  I know.  I've seen it firsthand.  I know I need to stop, that this habit will stop my heart and riddle my lungs with cancer.  But it's never that easy, is it?  You know you should recycle, but sometimes you drop that plastic juice container right in the garbage.  You know you should hit the gym, but you hit the snooze button those extra three times.  And me, I take that first cup of coffee out on the porch and light up because that's how my day starts.  That's how my eyes open, how the day's timer clicks on and starts running.

So I guess I'm playing chicken with my own mortality now.  Keep your fingers crossed I bail before it's too late.