The Etiquette of Smoking

It's Never Sunny

The walk to Paddy's wasn't very far, it was just around the corner and down the street from the bus stop I had previously been standing at. Because it was raining though, I was soaked through by the time I got to the bar and wishing I had just waited for another bus instead of calling Gavin. I would have ended up with soggy shoes either way but at least I wouldn't have gotten him involved. I sighed as I pushed the door to the bar open and was hit immediately by the thick stench of cigarette smoke. Putrid, I thought, as I hobbled over to the bar and found a stool on the end to slide myself on to. The bartender came to stand in front of me and gave me a once over before chuckling lightly, the action made his thick walrus looking mustache bounce in a funny way.

"Tough day?" He asked, reaching under the counter for a short, clean glass. I moved my soaked strands of hair away from my face and tucked them behind my ear. My hair that had been pulled into a ponytail back at the coffee shop now hung low on my neck as it was weighed heavy by rainwater. The feel of it on the back of my neck made me incredibly uncomfortable but it would be rude to ring it out in here, so I dealt with the discomfort. When Gavin got here, I could ring my ponytail out outside before I got in his car.

"Yeah...you could say that," I replied and watched as the man poured a bit of whiskey into the glass and slide it toward me. "Thank you."

"To warm you up." He nodded, moving back to the other end of the bar to tend to one of the only other customers here. A man with a black baseball cap pulled over...his eyes. I observed him more closely, squinting to try to see his face beneath the shadow his cap cast. I recognized him as the person who ran into me at the shop an hour ago. He had a cigarette clutched between his lips, that much I could see, but no other discernible features.

I looked away before I caught his attention and embarrassed myself for being caught staring. Clutching the glass in my hand, I watched the dark brown liquid swish around. I'm really not much of a drinker, I'd had maybe 3 drinks in my life and one of them doesn't really count because it was only 2 sips of beer before I threw up. The taste of alcohol had to be completely shrouded for me to enjoy it and had to be a fruity, girly drink. I've never had anything straight and hard like whiskey before, so I was apprehensive.

"You know you're supposed to drink it?" A deep voice asked from my left. My head shot to look at the baseball cap man who's face I still couldn't see but who had his head turned ever so slightly in my direction.

"I know, I'm just not a drinker." I replied, swirling the liquid around again and frowning at the strong scent that wafted up from it. It did not smell appetizing at all, if anything it smelled like old lady perfume. I don't know why anyone would voluntarily drink something like that.

"You're not a drinker but you're in a bar at," he mumbled but stopped to look behind us at the large wooden clock on the wall, "9 in the morning?"

He had me there, I'll admit. I sat up straighter and cleared my throat before speaking again. "Well, I'm waiting for someone. I wasn't planning on having anything to drink." I didn't want to throw the bartender under the bus but in my defense, it was the truth. The bartender in question grunted in response and turned his back to continue cutting lemons behind the bar. I silently apologized to him, hoping I hadn't insulted him. Before I go, I would need to remember to tip him nicely for the drink and his service.

"That's what they all say." The man smirked, throwing back the last of whatever was in his own glass and making a face of disgust after he swallowed. The cigarette he held in his left hand was nearly down to the butt as he flicked it over the nearly full ashtray in front of him. I wondered briefly if he was the sole cause of the strong smoke stench in the room.

"Well why are you here at 9 in the morning?" The words fell from my mouth before I could stop them and bit my bottom lip in hopes of inflicting enough pain as punishment for my mouth's lack of filter. Baseball cap man's body stiffened at my question and before I was able to apologize for my brash behavior the door of the bar opened suddenly, letting in light from outside as well as a burst of cold air. I turned to look at who had come in and felt my blood grow cold. Gavin made his way to the stool beside mine, wasting no time in ordering a scotch and soda.