Year 3, Day 21: Ten Years of Not Smoking

Most people only know the approximate date of when they quit smoking but I know the exact date I had my last cigarette: March 21st, 1997. It was a Thursday night, and I played poker. I didn't just smoke one cigarette; I smoked a lot of them. That's just what we did. I know, it's shocking. Why did I quit? It's a long, long answer. Earlier that afternoon, my brother David and I had left our respective workplaces early so we could go shopping for stuff for the card game. The game had been going on for nearly eight years and we had started to get our stuff at BJ's Wholesale, where it was a lot cheaper to buy a case of snapple and bags of doritos and such. Because we played every Thursday, and we neither had the funds nor the storage space in our meager apartments to store lots and lots of stuff, we had to return frequently, which wasn' t that easy since the closest one was in Medford. On weeks in between BJ's runs, we had to make do with Star Market, and in this case, the Fenway Star Market, which is hands down the absolute yuckiest, dirtiest, Star Market around (though the Chestnut Hill one comes pretty close). For whatever reason I hadn't eaten that day or not much or I was hungry and so I took a SMOKED TURKEY CUBE from a the stand-up chef display at THE FENWAY STAR MARKET. I feel pretty certain in retrospect that this was the cause of my later in the evening bout with some of the worst 'worshiping the porcelain altar' and 'technicolor yawning' that it has ever been my displeasure to endure. When I think of how that turkey was not only sitting out, unrefrigerated, but probably handled by people who were just minutes earlier handling ever more disgusting bottles and cans rescued and retrieved from the gutters of Fenway Park my stomach can really start grumbling. Now I happen to have some experience with the bottle & can people at Fenway Star because for a short time over the summer of 1987 I worked there as a cashier. I only had limited hours and so I was often relegated to the bottle return, and often took large, nausea-inducing hefty bags filled with just such bottles and cans. A few bottles were interestingly from brands that had not been manufactured for years. But I digress.

Friday morning, March 22nd, 1997, I had taken the day off from work and I was going to get up, get a rent-a-car and pick up my friend John. We were headed down to NY to the Beatlefest and we were going to stop in Foxwoods on the way, as had been our tradition. However, I never made it to the rent-a-car place (I wonder if they're still holding it?) because my friend Andrea called and desperately needed to meet me somewhere. Since I had been getting sick (really sick, yes, like that) all morning, I thought I would meet her at Jera's juice, a juice bar in Coolidge Corner. I figured it would be a good shot of health-giving juice that would give me the strength to get my day back on track. Now in retrospect, it is ridiculous to think that someone who stayed up very very late (2AM) and then got sick all morning would still try to keep an aggressive plan to drive three hours, go to a Casino, and then press on to a huge hotel-wide flea market. That takes a lot of energy. Sick, young and foolish, I still I thought I could get it done.

I took the T the few blocks from Washington Square, resting my hot head on the cool metal T handrails. I got to Jera's and got my order in OK, but before it came I needed to step outside for some air. When I woke up, the world was upside down. The Brookline Booksmith sign was upside down. (The picture above is EXACTLY what I saw when I opened my eyes). It took me a while to realize I was literally in the street, with my head in the gutter. The ambulance came, and even though I was a fairly young guy with my friend Andrea nearby, they spoke to me like I was holding a gun on a baby in a crack den. "You on drugs? Did you take any drugs?" I assured them I had not. The people at Jera's were clinging to the wall. The EMS guys put me on the stretcher, and attached the oxygen mask. Naturally, this was my cue to do my Darth Vader imitation. Andrea came with me in the ambulance. She was TOTALLY freaked out, she had no idea I had been sick that morning, so my keeling over seemed totally out of the blue. When I got to the hospital I was diagnosed as dehydrated. The cure: lots of saline, which was very cold (kept with the stethescopes, I thought) and gave me the shivers. I told Andrea to call John and tell him what happened. I think he showed up at the hospital, and so did my brother, who drove me home.

I think this was just pre-cell phone, so I think Emily didn't find out till she got home.

Breakfast
Kashi Go Lean!
Heritage Flakes
Blueberries
Strawberries
Banana
Unsweetened Soy Milk
Coffee

Snack
1/2 oz Boston Lite Popcorn
4 Sticks Beef Jerky
2 oz 50% Jalapeno Cheddar

Lunch: V Majestic
1/4th Vietnamese Pancake with Chicken & Shrimp
Broccoli & Shrimp
Tea

Dinner
Cheeseburger with Onions & Peppers
Romaine, Cabbage, Feta & Balsamic

By the time I woke up on Saturday I had already gone over 24 hours without smoking. I remember asking the question "I wonder when I'll feel good enough to smoke again." Right around this time, Brookline, the town I lived in, had passed a town-wide ban on smoking in restaurants. That meant you were no longer going to be able to smoke before and after dinner, even at bars. On top of that, the state had raised the cigarette tax so a pack of cigarettes went from being $2.50 to $3.25. That was it, I thought. I am not going to pay a ton of money to the state so they can keep me outside to practice my legal vice. At that point, I resolved to see how long I could go without smoking a cigarette. It has been ten years today, and though I have had a mess of cigars, no cigarette has passed my lips. And that goes DOUBLE for smoked turkey cubes.