Out of the Humidor
From the Print Edition:
John F. Kennedy, Nov/Dec 98
(continued from page 3)
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I was spending a week with several friends in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and the week was coming to a close. On this particular day everyone had decided to go snowmobiling, discouraged from skiing because of harsh weather conditions earlier that week. I decided to stay behind, and was rewarded by some great powder skiing through the Jackson Hole trees and slopes as a result of a surprise inch-an-hour snowfall.
When I got back to the cabin after a fantastic day on the slopes, I made the wonderful discovery that I had brought a cigar along for the trip (an Ashton). I was overjoyed because I had been unable to find any hand-rolled cigars in the little ski town and had forgotten that I had brought one from home.
After an hour in the sauna and a long shower, I pulled on my robe and got out the Ashton. The setting to enjoy my smoke could not have been better; the cabin was beautifully decorated. It had a vaulted ceiling over the sitting room, which was equipped with a two-story stone fireplace adorned with a lovely mounted elk head. I lit a fire, then turned the TV and phone off. I poured a glass of good Bourbon and got settled in a chair between the fireplace and the big picture window, which looked out on the mountains and valleys of Wyoming at sunset. I lit the cigar and took a puff, had some Bourbon, and enjoyed the tranquillity and beauty of the landscape and colors of the sky with a good cigar.
Charlotte, North Carolina
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I think I know how subjects felt at the Inquisition. To find out, just try going through the border crossing at the U.S./Canada border.
On my return to the United States during a recent car trip to Montreal, I was, upon first sight, grilled like a salmon filet. After answering the INS officer's arrow-tipped questions, I was asked to pull into a garage for inspection. When they went through my belongings, they eyed my Ziplock bag full of cigars, which had not been concealed but tossed on the top of my travel bag. Now, to be honest, some were Cubans that I purchased in Montreal, but many were Dominicans that I had brought with me from the United States. In any case, none of the cigars had a band on them. I suppose, foolishly, I was under the impression that if they had no bands on them that I could safely bring my cigars into the United States.
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