Thank you for smoking

I went to “the Standard Down Town” last night with this new girl I’m dating. For those of you who’ve never been there, I highly recommend the place. One of the best night spots in LA, you’re basically seating on top of a tower in the middle of the city. Awesome view, eclectic crowd, divine drinks and lounge music. Anyways, I’m with this girl and her friends, we argue about movies and actors, we drink vodkas and white Russians. It’s a nice, typical LA evening until one of the girls grabs a smoke. And here I am, without even thinking about it, I’m asking for a cigarette, ready to do anything to look cool in front of the girls. At the first drag I made an ass of myself. I started to cough, my throat was on fire, it was like having a wall in my lungs. I went on a coughing spree, I couldn’t stop it and had to leave the place, alone and ashamed. You see, my problem is that I have asthma. Usually the dry weather of LA is pretty good with me, so gentle in fact that I sometimes forget about my challenged lungs. That’s also why I don’t have my ventolin 24/7 on me. Well… lesson learned. It was my first and last cigarette. Happy Thanksgiving.