When I was growing up, eating out usually meant one thing.
A trip to Red Robin.
I loved Red Robin.
I remember the chicken fingers and steak fries. The helium machine the staff used to inflate balloons for my sister and I. And one question the restaurant host would never fail to ask when my parent asked for a table.
Smoking or non-smoking.
The answer was always the latter. Even if it meant a 30 minute wait with two hungry and impatient children in tow.
I always found it strange that the other side of the restaurant — the one behind a pane of glass — was so empty, while we were forced to wait by the host station with only those balloons as entertainment.
Many years later, I found out exactly what I was missing out on.
As a young TV news producer, I would often go to the Buffalo Wild Wings in Midland, Texas to watch football games or grab a drink with co-workers. Whenever I did, an unwelcome visitor tagged along — cigarette smoke.
The Midland Buffalo Wild Wings didn’t have a smoking section. The entire place was the smoking section. The same went for just about any other bar or restaurant in West Texas back then.
So, after a night out, you would need to throw your clothes in the wash. Or else, you’d smell like a chimney for days to come.
I mention these memories because of how quaint they seem today. We live in a world where smoking sections in restaurants have gone the way of payphone. Which is to say they’ve all but disappeared.
Yet, the act of smoking has not.
I don’t understand the tradition of smoking.
How could I?
In my life, I’ve only ever smoked three cigarettes.
All were during my freshman year of college, when my poor decision making was at its zenith.
Frankly, I’m surprised that I even got to three cigarettes. Because I didn’t enjoy the experience anytime I lit up.
The thick tobacco smoke clogged my lungs, making me cough. With each drag, it felt like tar was constricting my airway. (Fitting, because tobacco residue is frequently called tar.)
I found none of this pleasurable. Frankly, I felt dirty inside and out once I’d disposed of the cigarette butts.
Even if I hadn’t despised the experience so much, it’s unlikely I would have tried to light up much more. Even in my college years, I had no desire to add a nicotine addiction — and its long-term health risks — to my repertoire.
After all, my family had a longstanding aversion to tobacco. There was a reason my parents avoided the smoking section at Red Robin like it was the bubonic plague.
My grandfather — the one I’ve written about extensively before — had a heart attack when my mother was 4 years old. Formerly a heavy smoker, he gave up the habit cold-turkey after that. Something unheard of in the Mad Men era of the 1960s.
On my father’s side, my grandfather is a longtime family physician. He knows too much about the dangers of smoking to have ever picked up the habit. To my knowledge, neither of my grandmothers have ever smoked either.
So, in an era where cigarettes were as popular as fashion or candy, my parents grew up in tobacco-free homes. And while my mother had a rebel streak in her adolescence, buying cigarettes by the pack was never part of the equation.
Two generations in, I grew up in a segregated world — smokers and non-smokers. The cultural war was in full swing. And I was raised on the tobacco-free side of it.
As I neared adolescence, that side closed in on victory.
The United States government sued the pants off of Phillip Morris — and won. Cigarette ads went into hiding. A mockumentary lampooned Big Tobacco and its lobbyists. And cities and states started to ban smoking in bars and restaurants.
A half-century after smoking was a cultural standard, society was largely smoke-free. And even though I dabbled with cigarettes in college, I had no desire to linger any more on the wrong side of history.
Yet, the more things change, the more they stay the same.
Don’t call it a comeback.
Really, please don’t.
Years after the fall of Big Tobacco, smoking seems to be back in vogue.
Young adults who were toddlers when the government beat Phillip Morris are smoking Marlboros today. If not that, they’re taking a puff from their Juul e-Cigarette.
This has me perplexed, and more than a bit concerned.
For the formal manipulations designed to turn vulnerable young adults into cash cows for the tobacco companies have eroded. Gone are the neon signs, the magazine ads, and the ashtrays every 10 feet.
There is no good reason to assume our rising generation is getting duped into something dangerous. And there are only so many bad actors out there using peer pressure to get others to light up.
No, I believe the rise in new tobacco is part of a broader cultural shift.
For decades, young adults have wanted it their way, without compromise. But often, the intersection of society and logistics stood in their way.
It was hard to have a night out on the town without risking a DUI on the way home. It was challenging to connect with people based far away. And it was nearly impossible to speak out and demand a change in cultural values.
Even after needed change swept the country with civil rights legislation, societal values remained conservative. The old guard tradition of the working man and the picture-perfect family stood tall.
Yet, with the rise of the Internet and smartphone technology, much has changed.
Young adults can now connect with nearly anyone, anywhere. They can party until dawn and then hail a ride home with a stranger, using the computer in their pocket. And they have a megaphone that cuts through the static of tradition and allows their voice to be heard.
Young adults have it all. There’s nothing and no one to hold them back.
This is a good thing. It’s led to openness and change throughout society.
But that power does not discriminate.
So, if young adults want to vape from an e-Cigarette, or smoke a traditional one, no one’s going to stop them. Haranguing them on the risks is tantamount to restricting their freedom.
The issue is that the risks are real.
Nicotine is an addictive substance, no matter the form it comes in. And addictions are destructive.
Smokers risk their health — physically or financially — each time they take a drag. While that is their right and their choice, it is not solely their responsibility.
We have a chance to put a cap to this second wave of smoking. To curb the spread of e-cigarettes — and the slow creep of traditional ones — by indicating that such behavior is not desirable in our society.
It is on us to take responsibility. It is our duty to take these actions.
I say this not just because of my own opinions on smoking — those should be clear by now. No, I say this because we are the final hope to deal the final blow against the ills of tobacco.
The future is in our hands. Let it not slip away.