Darin and I stood in Old Town, on the corner of DeLacy and Green. It was a magnificent night: eighty degrees, clear skies, the slightest breeze stirring the young leaves on the trees behind us.
The whole area was packed with people who were taking advantage of the unseasonably warm March evening: families and young couples crowded the sidewalks, as a nearly-full moon slowly climbed the Eastern sky.
“Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?” I said.
“Getting the tires changed on my Jeep.”
“Want to get together and have a cigar? I haven’t had a smoke in months, and I’d like to celebrate the release of my book.”
“Sure. How’s the afternoon sound?”
“Perfect! I’ll write in the morning, and then we can goof off later in the day.”
We jumped out of the way as several little kids flew around us, their bemused parents half a block behind them.
“Do you have any cigars?” He said.
“No, the last few in my humidor are all crispy and old.”
“Well, why don’t we go into that shop across the street, get a couple, and smoke them by my pool?” He said.
“I think that’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”
We crossed the street, and walked into the shop. Four guys sat on overstuffed leather chairs and watched the basketball game on a flat screen TV. A cloud of delicious blue smoke hung heavily in the room.
I breathed deeply as we passed through it and entered the walk-in humidor: 70 degrees and 70 percent humidity never felt so wonderful.
“You like the Avos?” Darin said.
I shook my head. “No, I think they’re grossly overpriced.”
“Griffins?”
“Never had one.”
The door opened, and the young clerk, straight from the pages of Details magazine, walked in.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” He said. He wasn’t quite condescending, but he was heading that way.
I looked at the Davidoffs and Arturo Fuentes. I lingered over a bunch of Romeo y Julietas. Number One, Number Three, Number Four . . . but no Number Two.
“Do you have any Number Twos?” I asked.
He looked down at the boxes and said, “No, I don’t think we do.”
He clicked his tongue several times and challenged me. “Why do you want the number two? Why not the number three?”
Oh, there’s the condescending.
“When I bought my first box of cigars, it was R&J number two,” I said, “so that’s what I like to smoke.”
He looked at me.
“What about the Avos?”
Darin laughed.
“I’m not a big fan of them,” I said. I started to feel like I was dealing with a car salesman.
“Well, what about this one here?” He picked up a Churchill-sized cigar in a natural wrapper. Of course it was the most expensive cigar in the store.
“This one is very popular with the ladies,” he began.
“Wait.” I said.
Well, I think I said it. Maybe it was the Guinness I had with dinner.
“Are you trying to sell me a girlie cigar?”
He looked puzzled, and said, “Oh no, I mean that this is a nice, light cigar, and –”
“And it’s perfect for little bitches like me, right?”
“Well, sir, what I mean is –”
“Is that I’m a sissy little bitch who likes wussy cigars with his lemondrop martinis and Sex In The City DVDs?”
Darin laughed again, and I joined him. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, man,” I said, “I’ll just have an 8-5-8.”
The clerk looked like he’d just found out the gun wasn’t loaded after all.
“I think it’s a cosmopolitan that goes with Sex In The City,” he said.
“Oh? Well, I hear there’s a cigar in here that’s perfect for you.”
He laughed. “I’ll ring you guys up when you’re ready.”
75 thoughts on “smoke em if you got em”
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Wil,
Sherlock Holmes and Data always preferred a good pipe smoke. The sweet aroma of a cherry blend pipe tobacco is enchanting. (Would it be synthagar?) Maybe you could ask Monica L. what brand of cigar President Clinton preferred.
Very entertaining post. Can’t wait to read your book.
Freeman. (:)
My dad used to smoke cigars and my grandfather smoked pipes. I didn’t care all that much for the smell of the cigars but I remember looking forward to visiting Grandpa Ed so I could smell that wonderful cherry tobacco. Mmmmmm. Of course, I tried a puff once and just about hacked up my lungs. Didn’t taste anything like it smelled. Guess that’s why I don’t smoke. π
Hugs!
Tracey
That was simply classic! I look forward to your stories every day, Wil. That one topped off my evening. π
Wil, ya ought to go Aaaahnold in Sacramento. I hear he has put a cabana outside of his office where he lights up illegal cubans. You could be his cabana boy!
Wil,
I’m a pipe smoker and I’ve been in that shop, too–I wish I could say I’ve had a pleasant shopping experience there. Then again, no tobacco shop is really ever “normal”. The one I used to visit down in Tustin, on El Camino Real, was run by a crazy Irish guy who was always telling dirty jokes about Catholic school and trying to get us to buy expensive snuff sets off of him.
Hm, time for some Frog Morton.
m.
Did this really happen? For some reason it feels like fiction.
Anyway, whatever bro, it was a good story.
That’s so awesome! You’re my hero.
I think, Pat, that you need to re-read the story. Wil clearly states the corner he was standing on and with whom. He tells us why they went to the tobacconist shop, and he tells us clearly about the sales clerk who came into the humidor. So what is the problem with this story? Are you trying to be his English prof or what?
Not at all, Jessica. My own meager writing skills wouldn’t allow it. I merely noted my opinion as to which portions of the story succeeded, and which did not. I believe the brevity of my prior statement, as well as my own poor choice of words (by “set the scene”, I was not referring to the “setting”, which I thought Wil did a wonderful job of conveying), only served to obfuscate the intent of my post. Taken as a whole, I would have to say that I enjoyed it. It definitely brought a smile to my face. However, even after re-reading the piece several times, I can’t help but feel a little like the dude who busted his ass to make it to the theatre to see the movie, only to arrive late and have to piece things together in medias res.
I suppose I’ll just bite my tongue as far as the “so far out of character as to be almost unbelievable” issue is concerned.
What can I say? “Lying In Odessa” was easily the best work I’ve seen from Wil here, and I noted that in the comments section of part 4 of that blog. This tale, however, I found to be “just ok”…and honestly, quite mediocre for someone as talented as Wil.
-Pat
Pat makes some good points.
While I spent about 15 hours on ‘odessa,’ I spent about 20 minutes on this. If I decide to include it in a collection, or fold it into another work, I’ll heavily re-write it.
As far as being out of character . . . that’s an interesting observation. I guess there’s more to my “character” (in the dramatic sense, not the moral sense) than you’d naturally expect.
Of course, it probably WAS the Guinness talking. It’s much funnier than I am.
do watchmen
Really good stuff — and I’m impressed as hell that you did it in 20 minutes! You should definitely publish this in something somewhere down the line. I’d certainly have paid to read it.
Romeo y Julietas are alright, if you can’t get anything better, namely Montecristo, and especially Montecristo No. 2’s. Especially if you get the cuban ones. Smoooooth draw, tightly wrapped sweetness. If you want to legally (at least I think so) import some cubans, check out this Canadian place: http://www.varaderocigar.com .. they have the Montecristos.
Ignore those sissies who think smoking cigars is bad. Those are the same people who are going to lie on their death bed and wonder why their life was so boring.
-MrD
I like the smell of cigars while they’re lit, but damn do they ever leave a nasty stink behind afterward. I figured my apartment could easily handle a single night of cigar smoke during a poker game, and I had to live with my windows open for 3 solid days afterwards. But whadda you gonna do… I just got back from Cuba and I had to try out my souvenirs. π Next time we’ll smoke ’em outside.
I’m a cigar neophyte, so I can’t tell what number my Romeo y Julietas are. How do I find out? And why does it matter?
Try Padron, a good cigar for a good price.
Thomas Hinds, white label, … I sure miss those being around.
Nice slice of LA story.
Cool article!!!
Cool article!!!
Cool article!!!
Cool article!!!
Cool article!!!
Cool article!!!
Why must the cigar dealers hastle so much? I know it’s cheap, but I’ve always prefered a Macanudo Robuste.