Out of the Humidor
From the Print Edition:
Rush Limbaugh, Spring 94
(continued from page 12)
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I first want to thank you for the magazine--it's perfect. Second, I want to recount two experiences I have had with the anticigar crowd.
The first occurred last summer when my wife and I were vacationing on Fire Island. Since I like to smoke after dinner, we went early in the day to make sure we could get a table outside at one of Ocean Beach's best fish restaurants. In fact, at the appointed hour we were lucky enough to be seated at the rail of the deck overlooking the Great South Bay. At just before sundown we enjoyed a wonderful lobster dinner. As the sun sank into the bay and the light wind picked up just a bit, we ordered our brandies. I then lit one of my preembargo Montecristos; I bought a box during a visit to Prague a few years ago. These cigars are exquisite, as you know, with thick, chocolate aromas and a smooth taste enhanced only by Remy XO. After two draws and one swallow, an impolite, boorish waitress showed up and said that I had to put the cigar out, since a number of people were complaining. "How is that possible," I asked, "since the breeze is blowing away from the other tables?" "Dunno--you just gotta put it out," she said, with an air of indignation. I said, "Fine, give me the check." I paid the check with plastic and gave no tip. On the slip I wrote, "Close, but no cigar," and kept smoking huskily as I walked across the deck and out.
The second event happened more recently. I left the office early on Wednesday before Thanksgiving to beat the rush hour. I stopped at a red light at East 95th Street and York, heading toward the FDR Drive. I took out a Griffin's to smoke on the drive home, when I noticed a cab pulling up next to me. While opening the window to toss the match, I noticed the passenger in the cab. He had a look on his face that in a better world would be reserved for a child molester. He rolled down his window and scolded, "put out that stinking cigar." I smiled and, while blowing smoke toward him, I wished him the Thanksgiving he deserved. The light changed and I drove off happily smoking my cigar.
Howard B. Gold
New York, New York
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Two salubrious cigar anecdotes, true ones.
I was finishing a late Sunday lunch at an Al Fresco Cafe on Sunset Plaza when I expressed to my guest a strong desire for a good Cuban cigar. A gentle tap on my shoulder caused me to turn around. There in front of me was held a Bolivar! The presenter smiled and said, "enjoy."
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