Evading smokers
If you asked me what drug would I ban outright, without any repercussions, I would pick nicotine.
When I was growing up, I was always being told that smoking is bad (m’kay?) and that I should never even consider trying it. This rule got stuck in my head, and with it the seeming intolerance to the cigarette smoke. And the older I get, the more difficult it becomes to try evading it. Here’s a brief overview of what I have to go through on a normal day:
I’m waking up. I had my windows open in the night to let some fresh air in, but I have to hurry to close them—out of five flats adjacent to mine, three have smokers in them, and one of them smokes way too often for my taste.
I leave for work. There is no designated smoking (or no-smoking) spot at the bus stop, so everyone smokes where they want to. Some smoke under the sun cover. Some smoke near the rubbish bin. I choose to hide behind the bus stop.
I arrive at the train station. There is a designated smoking area, and smoking elsewhere is prohibited. Neither the visitors, nor the police care. Even if I would report a smoker, they will finish their cigarette, board a train, and ride off before the authorities have a chance to show up.
The last two steps are then repeated in the reverse order when I arrive at my destination. There is a short walk from the tram stop to the office building. It’s a narrow footpath, and if I’m lucky, a smoker will be walking in front of me.
Now, I’m at my office. A third of my direct teammates are smokers. They never smoke in the office, of course, but when they come back from their smoking break, you can smell it in the room. I’m turning on the A/C.
Lunchtime. My colleagues and I go to an Italian restaurant next door. The weather is good, so we sit outside. The aforementioned teammates grab an ashtray and light up their cigarettes.
Time to go home. The same things happen backwards, but now, it takes longer. Trains have a higher chance to be delayed, the buses don’t stop as often, so that means more waiting—and more waiting means more passive smoking.
I’m home. I start cooking dinner and open my windows, only to close them a minute later: My neighbour is having a smoke. I sigh, brush my teeth, and go to sleep.
Despite Germany having a lower rate of smokers than Russia, I feel like it’s a bigger deal to me. I think this can be accounted to two things: The cleaner air, which makes tobacco smoke appear even stronger, and my surroundings. I grew up in a big and, dare I say, prosperous city with high education levels; the half of its population are Muslim, some of whom may view smoking as a sin. As with many conservative states, smoking among women was also very rare. In Germany, it feels like everyone smokes. Young and old, men and women, cities and villages. The smokers are just spread out more evenly, so they become way, way harder to evade.
I once have heard a rumour that smoking in Singapore is punishable by death sentence, and it instantly became my dream destination. Since then, I have learned that this is obviously not true, but this wish of getting away from smokers through the power of law stayed with me. One day, I hope to wake up in a country where smoking is banned everywhere, to everyone; through means not as macabre as a death sentence, but strong enough for it to not be pursued any more.