Bad habits and the American pastime go together like nothing else. I was about to say that the best thing about my stay in Chicago is the fact that I can smoke cigars while I watch a baseball game on TV at the local smoke shop. I hold off on that statement because that wouldn’t be fair to all of the friends and family I have here (but they are all at work or school as I sit here and smoke, watch the Yankees and the Tigers battle it out in game two of their series, and type out this essay).
Seattle has all but outlawed smoking. Not only are you allowed to smoke indoors here, but Chicago also doesn’t have an enormous tax on tobacco products as they do in Seattle. It’s pretty easy to have willpower when cigars are horribly expensive and there is no place to smoke them when you do come up with the money to buy them. The only thing that I have to worry about here is cancer; that can wait until after the World Series.
This place doesn’t serve alcohol so I have been reeled in as far as one of my bad habits is concerned, but it’s 2:30 in the afternoon and I rarely have a drink this early—even during the playoffs. There is another game on later this evening so it isn’t as if all hope is lost as far as having a cocktail today. Maybe by the end of the day I can hit all of my bad habit bases. You can call it hitting for the cycle of vices.
If I could go back in time I would put on a suit and hat and go to a baseball game when they allowed fans to smoke cigars at the ballpark. I’m sure that there are better uses for a time machine, but I can’t think of one now as I puff on a wonderful La Gloria Cubana R Series #6 and stare at the big screen television as Detroit tries to hang on to a 4-3 lead in the 8th inning.
Almost as good as this cigar is seeing Alex Rodriguez, a former Mariner and Yankee sell-out, strike out repeatedly in this game. With the Mariners sitting out the playoffs yet again, I can at least take pleasure in rooting against the Yankees, no matter who they are playing—I don’t care if it’s the Al Qaeda all stars. I think that being an anti-Yankee fan is one of my good habits.
My cigar lasted long enough to see the Tigers hang on to their 4-3 lead and tie the series against the Yankees at 1-1. Tied up in front of the cigar shop was my brother’s dog, a very patient German Shepard. I had a short walk home, dinner to cook, and another baseball game to watch.
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