I've been smoking mostly lime green American Spirits lately. Mellow menthol. My cousin picked up a pack of Djarum Blacks for me last weekend, so I've been mixing those clove cigars in every now and then. Cute how they're cigars. I guess the papers are really leaves, or some kind of leaf composite. Finally found some Camel Wides over the weekend and had to pick those up to see what they're all about. It's true: they're wide.
Took a yellow to LaGuardia today and spotted a TSA agent nearby who I could ask about finding a good smoking spot. By the time I got out of the cab, he had sparked one up himself; when I asked, he directed me to either end of the terminal. I chuckled inside, thinking about how powerful he felt smoking right there, while telling passengers to walk on. But it wasn't far, so I didn't even think of asking if I could stand where he was, giving him a chance to actually exercise that unconfirmed power. I just walked away.
Standing over at the skinny part of the sidewalk--the part you drive by and get ready to slap any driver who even thinks about dropping you off at because there's insufficient room to maneuver and it's unnecessarily far from the entrances--I set my bags down and reached into my pocket for a clove. Dug around in one of the outside pockets of my backpack for a lighter. Saw metal on wheels passing by, dropping off human cargo for transfer to larger metal conveyors. Lit the clove. Watched more people. Saw couples in cabs, heading to the airport together. And this is where I stopped and reminisced.
I used to fly out every Monday morning. Every couple of weeks, I had someone to share a cab with. Those moments, the moments you know are the last you'll have with someone you love until next you meet, they're special. Even if she's sleeping and you just have your arm around her, they're the culmination of your time together until your next time together; whether that next time ever comes or not doesn't matter that much. There's something beautiful in an ending, in being able to look back on the whole of something.
