Our kids workout at a local Tae Kwon Do school, 9 hours or so a week. While the kids get primal and knock each other about, us parents hang out on the other side of the plate glass window. We do so, rain or shine, because we enjoy the fresh air. There's a bar kitty-corner from the school, where distinguished patron-patriots follow the law and do their smoking outside. As they say in the French countryside, one must have the courtesy not to spoil the exquisite bouquet of freshly tapped Old Milwaukee.
It's hard to distinguish facial features in the grayish haze, but we can discern voices now and then. Yesterday, for example, we heard a heated discourse on the merits of various flavours of tobacco.
"I take lots of little drags so I'm not really inhaling as much. That's why I don't need lite cigarettes."
"Makes sense. If ya ask me, Menthol is my fave."
"Menthol? I thought you're only supposed ta smoke those when you're sick!"
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1 comment:
Nothing says class more than smoking a menthol cig through your tracheotomy!
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