The affects of second-hand smoke

It's amazing how much smell can induce memories with the slight blowing of a breeze. Today I crossed paths with a young man smoking, and it was like a walk down memory lane. My name is Lissa Scott and I am a closet second-hand smoker.
Let me make clear that I am in no way a proponent of smoking or using tobacco products in any form. In fact the smell of cigarette smoke used to make me gag in my younger years. I would unabashedly hold my breath when passing a smoker on the street (which beats coughing loudly in front of them). But then Europe happened. In the summers of 2006 and 2007 I worked in Germany on military instillations. It is not an exaggeration when I say that EVERYONE in Europe smokes. It is absolutely ridiculous. Even all the Americans on base smoked. It's like they gathered every smoking person in the military and plopped them on one base. So everywhere I went, I was surrounded by a cloud of smoke hovering over my head. Eventually I became used to the smell. Some of my closest friends there were avid smokers, so to this day anytime I smell cigarette smoke I think of all the good times I had in Europe. I relish in the fading memory as I selfishly breathe deeply the toxic gases.
Umm...I just close my eyes and imagine myself, however briefly, walking the sidewalks of Kaiserslautern, Hameln, or London.....it's a wonderful feeling. Then I open my eyes and see a young pup smoking down Monmouth Avenue in front of Werner and remind myself that I'm not in Germany. Not even close. But I can always dream can't I?

And yes, I dream through a haze of smoke.