Out of the Humidor
From the Print Edition:
maduro issue, Winter 93/94
After my first wife died, I made a habit of smoking my first cigar in bed before breakfast. When I was making the decision for my second marriage, I wanted to make sure that I would still be able to continue to do this, so as part of our prenuptial agreement, it was included that I could smoke a cigar before breakfast in my bed. However, I was very accommodating. I had an air conditioner installed right over my head, and I'd put the fan on so it would draw out most of the smoke.
Sidney E. Frank
New Rochelle, New York
* * *
I'm sitting in my office this morning with a cup of coffee, a Hoyo de Monterrey and CIGAR AFICIONADO. While reading letters from my cigar-smoking compatriots, what a relief to discover that I am not alone.
Having smoked cigars for more than 20 years, I have experienced every form of abuse you could imagine. My wife and family are insidious in their disdain. My employees accept it only for obvious reasons. Strangers are abusive and often militant.
Over the years, I have retreated (with many cigars) to the only remaining safe haven: my office. It is here, I decided, that I would make my last stand. Resolute yet courteous, I even made an effort to accommodate visitors to my office on the top floor of a 22-story building. I had a very powerful exhaust blower installed directly over my desk. Days later, building management conducted a search to discover the origin of the cigar scent throughout the building. They discovered that the installers, instead of venting through the roof, had vented to the mechanical shaft that runs from the top to the bottom of the building. Each time an elevator ran, it created a vacuum, which sucked the air (and my cigar smoke) down the mechanical shaft, spreading it throughout the building.
Imagine my surprise and anger! More than 600 building occupants had been participating in my private moments of unadulterated bliss. I felt violated. My indignation increased with the realization that these people were undeserving of the experience. I had unknowingly exposed them to the scent of a culture that they could never hope to comprehend.
Needless to say, I took quick, decisive action to assure that these malcontents would never have such an opportunity again. Brutal, yes, but they caused my exile, and I'll be damned if they will share my private pleasure.
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