Dear Six Guys who lit up after their meal at Lorenzino-Salhiya,
I understand that at one point smoking was considered cool. Perhaps you were 16 when you started and hey all the cool people smoked, right? We've all done things we're not proud of. It's a tough habit to break. It's soothing. It's too hot outside. You just finished your meal and there's nothing greater than a cigarette after a nice meal. You need to smoke. I understand all that.
But you see, we are inside a building. The ceiling is low and it's a narrow restaurant, which means that there's no way for the smoke to dissipate. It lingers in the air and settles in my sad sorry asthmatic lungs. But you couldn't have known that.
Nope, you were too busy enjoying your oral fixation. Too busy to notice me, at the table right behind you, gasping for breath, coughing for a good five minutes and finally leaving the restaurant to stand outside for some fresh air.
It's sad all around, really. You, burning your money away on cigarettes. And well you, again, burning my money away at restaurants where your blatant disregard for those around you means a stop at the Amiri Hospital for me before the night is over.
You might think my anger is unwarranted. But see I think of air as a shared resource. I believe in such a thing as common courtesy. Like say, not contaminating a shared wel. You blowing smoke in the air I breath, would be like me spitting in your drinks. Disgusting, right? Exactly! I do not spit in your drinks. Not when I really feel like it, not when there's no where else to spit, not when I feel like I absolutely must. Nor do I defecate or urinate on your possessions. My, what self restraint I have!
You might want to try it sometime. Respecting others. It can be fun. In the meantime, I hope every time you smoke indoors, someone urinates from his balcony and hits your head. I hope every waiter spits in your food. I hope you never find parking. I hope you get the worst case of the runs that keeps you at home, where you can smoke your organs away without making the rest of us smell like ashtrays.
I hope you die,