GUS (Gave Up Smoking) is a community support diary for Kossacks in the midst of quitting smoking. Any supportive comments, suggestions or positive distractions are appreciated. If you are quitting or thinking of quitting, please -- join us! We kindly ask that politics be set aside.
You can also click the GUS tag to view all diary posts. I'd normally point you to the GUS Library at dKosopedia for a great list of stop-smoking links, but it seems to have gone on vacation. Maybe it'll send us a postcard.
"Remember, no matter where you go,
there you are." - Buckaroo Banzai
We all need a little escape from our lives every once in a while. Quick little breaks provide us with a moment away from whatever is vexing or perplexing us, giving us a bit of time to clear the head. These breaks let us regroup, refresh, recharge, or just indulge in some mindless entertainment or activity. They can also be something more substantial: a much-needed "mental health day" (one of my personal favorites), a day trip, a weekend getaway, or an actual vacation. (I vaguely remember what that last thing feels like, but it's been a while!)
Smokers tend to structure their days around these little breaks. For too many of us, our smoky "time-outs" become intrinsically linked to our idea of "escape." Call it what you like: "me time," "taking five," whatever; the fact is that we often have (or had) a hard time picturing our down time without cigarettes playing a central role.
Many of us use (or used) smoke breaks as an excuse to walk away from whatever it was that was bothering us or stressing us out; over time, it became our go-to coping mechanism. The brain chemistry of addiction being what it is, we also learned to associate those smokes with relief, release, and general good times. Our smokes become our travel companions, essential vacation supplies, even our portable anger management/stress reduction therapy devices. Just think: all that, in one little addictive, easy-to-tote, carcinogenic package.
Awesome.
There are drawbacks to such an approach, of course, and not just those related to our long-term health. We can't always be guaranteed our breaks (whether for timing or logistical reasons), and we don't always have very good coping mechanisms or a Plan B lined up when our need for escape is denied. This may be even more true if our escape also features some real-live, hop-in-a-plane-train-or-automobile travel.
As someone who was a bit of a travel junkie as well as a pretty dedicated smoker, once upon a time, I've met more than my share of smoking-related travel glitches, both close to home and on the other side of the world. Nothing says "Welcome, stranger! Relax! Oh, and by the way..." like a well-placed, unexpected "No Smoking" sign, am I right?
It was no picnic even back in the days of fewer smoking bans. Our little "escapes" weren't always a guarantee, even in surroundings that were more smoker-friendly. I've been quit for more than five years now, and toward the end there, the process of traveling under the influence of nicotine was no treat; it's even worse now, with fewer places to smoke in transit, and more destinations becoming less accommodating to that die-hard 20%. Even twenty years ago, there were plenty of hotels that didn't have smoking rooms, or fleets of cabs that didn't let you spark one up in the back seat. In some countries, people puffed away like chimneys pretty much everywhere, but in others? Not so much.
A lot of things can get between you and your smokes when you're on the road. Back-up cartons of cigs packed in stowed luggage that have mysteriously (and permanently) gone missing, for example.
That was fun. I spent ages anxiously pacing the length of the international terminal of Narita Airport looking for a Duty Free Shop, only to realize after purchasing my replacement smokes that since I was still in transit, I couldn't crack open that new carton until I was at my destination. So off I went to find a vending machine or airport shop that sold cigarettes (along the way discovering that you can purchase pretty much ANYthing from a vending machine in Japan, including used underwear, pornographic manga, cans of green bean juice, and new shoes). Once I figured out that that my particular bank card was no good in that store, my lack of Yen proved to be a problem at the cigarette machine, and my lack of conversational Japanese a roadblock to bumming a smoke from a kindly (if overly polite) stranger.
Ooookay, I'm resourceful, I can totally figure something out.
Except I couldn't. I was stuck. For a five-hour layover, after a super long nonstop flight from Chicago to Japan, I couldn't smoke. And it made me NUTS. I couldn't focus on my surroundings at all. There I was, almost 7,000 miles from home, and I was so consumed by my need to smoke that I couldn't stop for a minute to acknowledge that I was on the other side of the world in a completely alien and fascinating environment, one I should, oh, I don't know, maybe pay attention to? Hell, I was so intent on my mission to obtain cigarettes that I nearly missed the novel sight of an American NBA team going through the airport, looming a couple of feet over everyone and everything around them. And before you ask, no, not sure which team. A couple of the guys looked slightly familiar, but...well, if I couldn't smoke it, I wasn't all that interested. What a loss.
My ultimate destination on that trip was no help either. I was headed to Singapore, home of the arbitrary lifestyle fine. They fine you for everything there, from spitting on the street to jaywalking to -- horror of horrors! -- smoking in public. And not little fines, either (see Exhibit A at right). My trip became an exercise in timing my smokes, locating hotel bars and off-the-beaten-path destinations where smoking was permitted.
And I was willing to put up with these restrictions, because I had no choice. If I wanted to see this part of the world, I had to make room for my smokes in the equation. I remember my relief during a second trip through Singapore, to cross over the causeway into Malaysia and be able to smoke on the street again.
It seems sad to me now...how much did I miss, while I was focused on where my next smoke was coming from? How many things did I decide not to see or do, because I couldn't smoke while seeing or doing it? How many times did I, in desperation, smoke something that tasted more like camel shit than Camel Lights when I miscalculated the amount of smokes to bring along and was forced to buy local?
And how glad am I that this sort of thing doesn't even cross my mind anymore? Except to be surprised when I go somewhere that doesn't have much in the way of smoking bans.
I'll tell you: very, very glad.
Were smokes your escape? Any smoking-while-traveling horror stories to share? The floor is yours!
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