Screw you, I quit!

I'm not going to get into how the government is slowly but surely eating away at our individuality and ability to make our own choices because, well, I don't think Joel has the time to edit such a tome, nor the bandwidth to upload it to HoboTrashcan. As a native Washingtonian, living among this bureaucracy , the subject remains atop the don't-even-get-me-started list; (but do feel free to email me if you'd like a run for your money).

Instead, I have decided to write about my personal concession. Yes, the government finally got to me; I cowered, perilously, and now, I must admit, the Government and Big Pharma, won.

So the background ... I love to smoke. There. I said it. I. Love. To. Smoke. I love cigarettes. I've been known to chain smoke a pack or two over a night of drinking and dancing with the girls. I have been known to walk nearly a mile in a foot of snow to the nearest 7-11 because my car wouldn't make it up the hill in such conditions, just to get my lips on some Marlboro Ultra Lights. To add insult to injury, I think cigars are sexy; and pot is pretty cool as well. Burning things and inhaling the byproduct into my lungs happens to be something I enjoy, and have for the past ten years.

Enters the DC Smoking Ban of 2006. Oh yes, I remember it quite well. Beginning January 2, 2006, smoking was banned from all bars and restaurants in Washington, DC. I remember wondering how I would ever survive. The government was stripping me of my crutch and forcing me to stand in the elements in order to suck on some cancer, oh no! And the domino-effect began: neighboring counties went smoke-free and on February 2, the entire state of Maryland is going to Just Say No.

Northern Virginia has a fun nightlife, and one can still smoke there, and because of, *gasp*, politics, the wonderful Commonwealth will probably remain this way until Richmond's second-largest employer, Phillip Morris, goes belly-up. The catch you ask? The cops in Virginia are probably the most predatory force in the country. Unless you have a driver with a perfect driving record, I wouldn't attempt to have two beers and get on the road; they will find a reason and a way to rape you with fees and fines for the rest of your life over the smallest infraction.

So essentially, I have no where to go to partake in the age-old practice of having a cocktail and a cigarette in a public establishment. And just when I finally came to terms with this and decided that everyone is entitled to clean air, the fabulous State of Maryland decided to impose a new cigarette tax to ring in the New Year with buckets-o-cheer. The new cost of a pack of cigarettes? No less than $5.50 a pack. I know New Englanders aren't phased by this - this isn't for you, skim the next few lines. Washington, DC is considered the "South" and with the South comes Big Tobacco. We aren't used to this!

So what is a poor smoker to do? Quit? Really? You can't be serious!

And then it happened: I was laying in bed one night, watching TV and saw a little tortoise meandering along the lime green road to recovery as a hare bounced around, off the track, away from the finish line. I had been formally introduced to Big Pharma's latest money-making scheme: Chantix. And for once, I was intrigued.

Perhaps my intrigue stemmed from the fact that a new drug was on the market for an actual affliction, as opposed to, oh I don't know, "Restless Leg Syndrome," (which I like to call, "Lay-off-the-caffeine-and-calm-the-fuck-down Syndrome"). Or maybe my curiosity had been piqued by the soothing, male voice with a thick British accent proclaiming a 44 percent success rate.

For me this meant I had a 44 percent chance of saving at least $150 a month; a 44 percent chance of not looking like a well-worn haggard leather bag by the time I am 35; a 44 percent chance of not sounding like a man when I'm 50; a 44 percent chance of no longer allowing someone else's pocket to get fatter, whilst mine gets smaller, because I am too weak and blind to see the cigarette-shaped finger that holds me to my addiction.

And while I do have a problem with replacing one drug with another, Chantix is a plan with an end in sight. So, I tried it.

The first week, I smoked as if I was taking nothing to curb my appetite for nicotine. The second week, when the dose doubles, I noticed that I was beginning to forget I was a smoker. I was able to work through the day without taking a smoke break; I was able to pass a convenience store with only a few cigarettes left in my pack and not a single freak out and stop to get more just in case I might run out; the taste of smoke in my mouth began to repulse me; I noticed that the firm grip nicotine had on my daily life was being released.

It is truly amazing how fast I was able to recognize how shackled I was to such a mindless product. Am I "cured?" No way.

I still have one or two a day because I am not quite ready to say goodbye. This is the part of the process that I am not fully able to understand. If I don't want the cigarette, or feel as if I physically need it, why do I bother? Phillip Morris and his army of skinny pawns he tightly packs into gold and silver boxes are not my friend. So then why does it feel like I am losing one? Why do I feel like I am letting someone else win? Why do I feel as if I am allowing someone else to make decisions for me?

If you are in the process of quitting smoking, I highly recommend Chantix, it is worth a serious try, but, you must be prepared for the WHY's. Quitting smoking in today's world is a double-edged sword: you must concede to one enemy in order to screw the other. You don't get to have this one both ways, and yea, it sucks; I hate allowing the government to influence me to the point that I stop doing something I find pleasurable. I hate that their tactics finally worked, on ultra-liberal ME.

At some point the masses will catch on and cigarette companies will slowly die and merge and become quite powerless. The day will come when they won't have the money to fund their interests through our government. Smoking will become taboo and the last few, strong, people that stood up for themselves and kept right on smoking will die. Then and only then, will this point become moot.

I'm not on a high-horse; I still believe it is everyone's right to smoke, and I believe it's the right of the owners of establishments to set the rules and let the public decide who they'd like to patronize.

I usually have something to bitch about, but, I thought I'd use this opportunity to get on a soap box and promote something a lot of you have heard about, think about, might want to try, yet don't want to "give in" to. Screw that.

Get rid of the cigarettes, save yourself from some cancer further down the line, save your money and do something else with it for a little while - contribute more to your 401k where that wonderful government of ours can't take their third; do something. Come up with your own "Screw You" for Uncle Sam and Phillip Morris; they've been screwing you for years!

I think for the hard-headed smokers, myself included, the only way to quit firing it up is to get fired up. Until then, we are still blind, mindless followers and our diatribes will always be nothing more than fancy excuses.

Sydney Savage is an International Conference Coordinator by day and gregarious Washingtonian by night. Feel free to criticize her opinions by emailing her at sydneysavage@hobotrashcan.com.