Nailing my lungs to the post

Non-smoking crowd, please forgive me, but smokers are nicer people. Except for fashion world smokers – designer cigarette people are way out of our league. Smokers always gather somewhere, and whether they know each other or not, conversations will be had, cigarettes will be offered and lighters will be lent.

Airports. No one really likes them. Waiting rooms, 6 hour long stop-overs, all-the-same duty free shops, the mystery really isn’t there. So you sit in the waiting room, waiting for your flight. Stare as blank as a goldfish towards whatever screen is, or occasionally fall asleep on those more than uncomfortable chairs. It really is a life of an aquarium. Unless you happen to be a smoker. Oh your fingers and lungs tingle just at the thought of stopping over and being able to smoke. And as you make your way to the smoking lounge at the airport you ponder as to why airplanes can’t have a smoking area. Smoking lounges, I find, can vary immensely from airport. But whether they are cancer-closet-like or ample, chique and comfortable they all have one feature in common. The glass wall. And though some might interpret it as a nice act towards smokers, enabling them to not feel so excluded from the outside world, it actually serves a didactic purpose. Parents from all over the world can stroll along the lounge pointing at jolly smokers and saying: “Sophie, Candice… Do you see those people there? They’re all engaging in a very un-healthy habit. And one day they will be very sick. And might steal your place in a public hospital. These people have black lungs and yellow teeth and nails and bad breath.” But, obviously, what Sophie and Candice see differs largely from what her dad is telling them. What they see is an exciting world, much more exciting than the goldfish world they are stuck in. They see people interacting, laughing, and blowing smoke out like magic dragons. And except for the occasional suit and briefcase introvert everyone seems to be happy, entertained. They walk off, bemused at this alternate, smoky, almost mythical world and follow their parents in pursuing cheap whiskey and Lindt chocolate.

Other than having each other, smokers have also that precious little tobacco stick that can be of most use in many situations. Cigarettes have been told to prevent mosquito bites, provide little but crucial lighting to dark areas thus impeding smokers to walk aimlessly around, minimize stress levels and heal the sense of post-modern world loneliness. Absurd, you say? I beg to differ. Upon making plans with friends one can many times be left to wait alone for a good hour as said friends make themselves fashionably late. No cigarette, you’re left to stand there, looking sad and stupid and feeling abandoned, with nothing more to do than people watch. Cigarette in hand, your confidence is restored, your sense of loneliness and abandonment diminished. You are no longer someone just waiting, you are a person smoking. You are no longer passive, but active. You have a purpose in life, the world will not crumble down over you. You are in control. If Estragon had been holding a cigarette in hand during the first section of Act 1 in Waiting for Godot the play would’ve had a completely different impact. The power of cigarettes is clearly underestimated.

A cigarette can not only change the entire course of an earth-shattering play, it can also make people look smarter. The act of taking the little white stick to the lips, inhaling, holding it in, and then exhaling makes people gain a complexion of insightfulness. It’s as if life was revealed to them in a different way. And their sensorial, chromatic and chronologic perceptions are a whole different thing altogether. Smoking also has an impact of mystery on other people. It is an ambiguous endeavor, especially if accompanied by iconic clothing, such as leather jackets or scarves. It can at the same time make one look absorbed in life and nonchalant. Imagine if there was a Nicotine Addict Barbie. Life as we know it would no longer be.

But as all better-off minority communities, we must be fought and eradicated in the name of alienation, fragile and therefore more easily corrupted labour, selfish individuality, goldfish lifestyles, Sophiesms, Candiceisms and Malibu Barbiecisms. As every day goes by smokers are restricted to smaller and smaller areas, making population density in these places higher than in any corner of São Paulo. Our favorite characters on main-stream TVs, battling against cigarettes, buying nicotine gum and nicotine patches and being encouraged by their friends to quit. Most of the cigarettes that get airtime are found in the mouths of villains and women of dubious professions. No one to identify with, we are unworthy societal types. Not even the market, which is out after every different group, hype and clique – from midget anarcho-punks to blonde samurais – want us. And unlike other minority groups, no one will be by our side to raise our flags and offer a helping hand or a comforting word. We will not despair, however, fuelled by our daily intake of nicotine, sense of community and insightfulness and will ride off into the sunset, hat on a high-held head, cigarette in hand.

- by Mariana R.

This entry was posted by Neil Keating, on Tuesday, 25 March 2008. You can leave your response.