As much as I dislike cigarettes and smoking now, I felt the need to have a dalliance with the smokers lifestyle back in college. Well, it was more of a peer pressure thing since I was the only one on the dance team who didn’t smoke. They said they did it to stay skinny, but I picked up the habit so I wouldn’t be the only one left in the studio during breaks at practice.
I really wasn’t a good smoker to begin with; I was sort of messy with the ashes. I got it together after a while and could pull off smoker steez successfully. People would see me with a cigarette and talk about “You don’t look like you smoke”. It was funny and sad to me all at the same time.
Honestly, I really didn’t enjoy it all that much but it brought me closer to my other dance team girls. I guess that’s the definition of taking one for the team. I thought about quitting since I wasn’t getting anything out of it other than cold azz Syracuse air and smoke in my lungs. So I quit, but only after the “incident”.
I was on my way to visit the guy I was dating at the time. He went to school about an hour and a half away from Syracuse, and I always made the effort to visit him…because well I like driving alone on road trips, and also because I was the one with the car.
So there I was on the road; it was pretty much empty since that area is really rural. Of course since it was a nice day I had music blasting and the window open. I pulled out a cigarette and settled in for a nice ride. I went to toss the cigarette (bad I know) and rather than it fall out of the car onto the road, the wind blew it back in to the car. I knew it fell behind me but I didn’t realize where right away. Lo and behold, the cig had flown back in the same window it went out of, and managed to fall right between me and the back of my seat. It fell down my back and into my pants. It got wedged between my bare ass and my pants/car seat.
Lemme tell you, that ish was HOT! I felt my poor ass skin frying and sizzling, but I couldn’t pull over because of course someone decided to get on the road with me. No one else had been on that road for at least 15 miles and all of a sudden there they were cruising on my left side. I was in the car screaming bloody murder trying not to run off the road, trying to stay straight. Apparently the people next to me thought I was singing and were all like “Go Girl!” pointing at me and smiling and nodding their heads to their own music and ish. It was a good 2 minutes before they moved enough so I could pull over–all the while my ass was frying like a piece of Sizzlean bacon.
By the time I was able to pull over, my jeans had a burn hole in them, my draws were toast, but thankfully my car seat hadn’t caught fire. I shook my leg and the cigarette fell out. It had finally gone out. I got it together enough to make it to a rest area. I went in the private handicapped stall and saw that there were really bad burns all across my behind. So I got some neosporin and some little round bandaids from the little store in the place. Yep, the rest of my trip I had round bandaids all over my ass. The scabs that formed were the worst. Nope, no kinda nookie for me that weekend. My pride–and my ass–were too burnt.
As for the cigarettes, they got left on the side of the road and I haven’t smoked another one since. That was my quit day.