Monday, November 6, 2017

Maybe It's Just The Perception

Sunday, Farmer H and I made a jaunt to the casino after he closed up his storage shed store. It's become one of our regular outings. I used to marvel at one of the retired office gals at Basementia. Seems like she and her husband were always going to the casino. Huh. There's not much else to do around these parts. And with those offers, it's like you're losing money if you DON'T go! Okay. I have been losing money when I DO go. But that's beside the point. It's money that's already earmarked to lose.

Anyhoo...I was sitting at one of the two slot machines that actually let me enjoy a profit, and a lady sat down right next to me. That's no big deal. There were only four machines on that row, and three of us playing them. She didn't crowd me. At first, I thought she was going to be one of those annoying people-persons. You know. The kind who small-talk your ear off. She slid onto the stool and said, "Gosh, it sure is cold here." Yes. The casino must be trying to preserve us old corpses so we don't stink. I have taken to taking a jacket with me, but then it stinks like smoke, and I don't wash my jackets weekly. Sunday was quite warm, 75 degrees, and I didn't even wear a long-sleeved shirt. So I agreed that yes, it certainly was cold in there.

That lady settled down and started playing. She ceased the small talk, and was one of the more pleasant close-players that I have encountered. She didn't pound on the machine, or stroke it suggestively, or yell, "OH, COME ON!" every time she spun. I was hitting some bonuses, and she didn't comment on them, or crane her neck over to see. She minded her own beeswax.

After about 10 minutes, that lady looked at me, and the gal on her left, and asked, "Will it bother either of you if I smoke?"

Hm. Yes. Very much so. But because she was so polite, and I was in a casino, I told her, "No. It's okay." Which was a little white lie, but after all, we were in a casino! It's not like I was laying in intensive care under an oxygen tent, nor tasting exotic dishes on a once in a lifetime vacation. She had asked politely, was minding her Ps and Qs, and who was I to deny her this vice pleasure?

You know, that smoke wasn't all that bad. She even had her ashtray between her machine and mine, but that smoke didn't seem to waft my way. It's not like she was exhaling fine perfume, but it was bearable.

Just before we left, however, I moved across the casino to a machine I'd been waiting to get on since we arrived. Finally! A vacant seat. This was a giant slot, on a circle of six machines. I pulled out the stool and put my feet on the slanted rubber mat part that vibrates when you get a bonus. It's the game that yells "BUFFALOOOOO!" when you get some good-paying buffalo symbols. right foot stubbed something on that mat, and I looked down to see two full ashtrays that I'd just kicked over! WHO DOES THAT? It's not like I go through the casino with my eyes glued to the floor, looking for ashtrays (or even pennies). It might not have even been the smoker(s) who put them there. Sometimes I sit down at a machine, and there's a nasty ashtray sitting on it. I put it down between the machines, on that shelf they sit on. Or move it to another machine if it's one of the big ones and I'm afraid somebody will nab it if I step away. A short time later, one of the workers came by, wearing rubber gloves, carrying a bucket, and picked up those two ashtrays from under my feet. Sorry, but she's paid to do that.

While I was waiting for the late Farmer H, he having texted me that he'd just hit 15 free games (yes, he came out a winner again, that dirty dog), I sat down to play $10 of my cashed out tickets by the ticket-cashing machine. An old lady with a leathery face and sour expression sat down a couple machines away, smoking like a chimney, hacking and coughing, her acrid smoke drifting across my nostrils. I swear, it was like a cartoon of Pepe Le Pew's scent. You could actually SEE those tendrils of smoke snaking their way my way. They also snaked right into my lungs and burned like the dickens.

Farmer H, upon being informed of the different smoker scenarios, said that he thinks it's just the brand of cigarettes. I'm not so sure.


Sioux Roslawski said...

HM--I work with a lady who is a smoker. I've heard she goes out during her plan periods and smokes (it's not a public school) but whenever she's in the building, she smells like an ash tray.

I cannot even tolerate sitting by her... Her stench makes my asthma act up.

Hillbilly Mom said...

We had some at Newmentia who took a drive during their plan time, since we were smoke-free on campus. Of course, some people think rules are made to be broken. You didn't want to go in the faculty women's restroom after the counselor, and not because she was doing her business in there. Also, one of our guys thought he could outsmart the system at Lower Basementia, and snuck into the boiler room for a puff. He set off the smoke alarm, and we had to evacuate the building.

fishducky said...

♪♫Tell st. Peter at the Golden Gate that I hate to make him wait, but I just gotta have another cigarette!!♪♪

River said...

Hick is right, different brands of cigarettes do smell different. The cheaper they are, the worse they smell. Pouch tobacco for roll-your-owns is the same. The cheapest brand can stink out a room at the first puff, and out here, I've heard that's usually the one given out in prisons, so ex-cons always buy it once they get out. I don't know how true that is. There is once pouch tobacco out here called Port Royal, quite expensive, but the smoke from those cigarettes actually smells nice, although I'd still move away from it.

Hillbilly Mom said...

If you're hooked, you're hooked! Lucky for me, I've never had the urge. A couple of "friends" even tried to teach me how to smoke, during poker games at my third teaching job. It didn't take.

My dad used pipe tobacco, and he had one kind that smelled great. It had a cherry smell to it. He also smoked cigarettes. Riding in the car with him was not good for my lungs!

Kathy's Klothesline said...

HeWho has the nasty habit, but he does not smoke inside. I won't even allow his dirty clothes in the house, they go straight to the laundry room. But I like the smell of pipe tobacco and the scent of a cigar takes me back to childhood, my Grandpop smokes cigars and I always think of him when I smell one. It is hard to say no to someone polite enough to consider those around her, but I would have had to move. My wheezing might have been offensive!

Hillbilly Mom said...

If you'd played your cards right, and if HeWho was as hard-headed as Farmer might have gotten out of doing his laundry for 28 years!

I like the pipe tobacco because my dad smoked a pipe. A regular cigar--no. I think one of my grandpas on my dad's side smoked one. Farmer H's occasional Swisher Sweet wasn't too bad, but I still didn't like it. So he hasn't had one (around ME) for many years.