Fat Guy a Smokin'

It's been a while since I last visited my partner company so I drove down to talk business and I was pleasantly surprised to see an old friend. Or foe. Or maybe just a complete stranger that I've created a lifestyle, personality and character traits for all in my head. Whichever it is, I was pleasantly surprised.

See, previously when I frequented the aforementioned office on a regular basis, I would walk by a rather obese man in an illfitting shirt and tie. He was always pacing back and forth, having a smoke. It didn't really matter how early I came in, how late I came out, or how many times I left for meetings during the day, he was always out there taking a break and enjoying a nice slow drag. He had become affectionately known as "Fat Guy a Smokin" (I realize, "Smokin' Fat Guy" seems more grammatically correct, but for some reason he was Fat Guy a Smokin').

Some days he wouldn't be there and I customarily assumed he had dropped dead; he couldn't have been too far away from that happening. But the next day, he was always back at his post and my hope for humanity was renewed.

I don't know why I found the guy so interesting. I just did. Maybe I just found watching a fat guy who appeared to already be on the verge of a coronary and smoking a cigarette to be my own little scientific experiment. Maybe I was hoping he was going to prove the Surgeon General wrong and live a long, happy life. Maybe I considered him research material as I too test how unhealthy I can live and still live. Honestly the odds are good that I'll be fatter than him someday if I keep eating as much Hostess as I do (No! No I won't! I vow to the moon and stars that I won't!). Maybe he just made me feel superior because I'm "healthy". Well at least I don't smoke anyway.

Is it because I listened in 7th grade health class when Mr. Patterson told us not to smoke because it was yada yada yada? Seriuosly? People actually need to be told not to smoke? Actually, truth be told, I might because honestly, I always thought smoking was pretty freggin cool. For crying out loud, these people are breathing fire! That's a trick.

Time to fess up because I know I'm not the only one who pretended to hold a cigarette when it was cold enough outside to see your breath. And who wouldn't like to snort smoke out of their nose like a dragon or a mad cartoon bull? You can't tell me James Dean didn't look totally bad with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

Now don't get me wrong. I've never smoked a cigarette and I never will. But if the circumstances were different, I can totally see myself a smoker. And by "if the circumstances were different", I mean, if cigarettes were 1) free 2) tasted like a twix 3) didn't cause cancer 4) didn't make your teeth yellow 5) didn't promote littering and forest fires 6) weren't addicting 7) didn't contain nasty carcinogons 8) and you get what I mean. Well if that were the case, I just might be out there right now with Fat Guy a Smokin', talking about how there's no way that one sprinter is a dude or how bad the Japanese National Anthem sounds. Seriously. It sounds like a bunch of kids banging cymbals.

Here's a side note: There are a few things about myself that are different from most folks. Examples: I love to mow the lawn. Most people like the Dave Matthew's Band. And oh yeah, I occasionally enjoy second hand smoke. I know, I know, I'm supposed to cough self righteously and shun those weak, miserable souls who suckle at the filtered teat of the big, evil tobacco lobby, but I don't. I've had enough crap jobs that involve outdoor, manual labor to become quite a connoisseur of secondhand smoke.

In high school I worked in construction with a one thumbed, burned out, alcoholic hippie named Randy. When I interviewed, it seemed like a good way to learn skills, but we just chopped wood day in and day out for the owner of the company instead. If Randy didn't have a beer at lunch, he would get the shakes. Anyway, I spent eight hours a day chopping wood with Randy, listening to his country music on AM radio and breathing in his exhaled GPC's. GPC's stink. They are stale and uninspired. A poor man's smoke. But there was another guy I worked with there, John Conners. Not the guy from the Terminator (but if he is, we're all in trouble when Skylab attacks with all those red-eyed robots because this guy couldn't lead an army worth a dang). What John could do and did do though, was spend real money on his smokes. He went with Winston Finely Aged Tobacco and I liked the smell of those Winstons. It was sweet, almost fruity. Camel's on the other hand are pretty harsh and Marlboro's are rich, but a little boring, but they do have a real live cowboy pitching for them and that's gotta count for something. Still, I'm definitely a Winston man.

Anyway, I noticed Fat Guy a Smokin' was outside with Fat Lady a Smokin' during my last visit to the office and it was pretty romantic. I imagined they were discussing which kind of ham they are going to buy with that month's supply of Marlboro Miles. Soon they'll get married and have little Fat Babies a Secondhand Smokin'; their low birth weight due to FLS smoking during pregnancy compensated by baby bottles full of Mountain Dew and a steady diet of nacho cheese. Babies love nacho cheese. Soon they'll have a whole clan: Fat Family a Smokin', rolling around town in their maroon colored minivan with blown shocks, hotboxing the carton of Camel's they just bought at Costco. It makes me smile.

So I guess I'm interested in Fat Guy a Smokin' because I'm a judgemental prick. But you know what, if you enjoyed this post... even a little bit... than you're judgemental too. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Welcome to the mire.