A Burning Issue

I was sipping my coffee as I sat on a bench waiting for my train at an outdoor Metro North station on a bright, sunny, early summer morning, when suddenly I caught a whiff of smoke passing by. I looked to my left and saw a woman smoking a cigarette. I was about to ask her to move down wind when she moved of her own volition.

I’ve been taking the Metro North for about a year now and I can’t recall more than a handful of times when I saw someone smoking on the platform. But this day was the exception to the rule. As my train was pulling into the station, I got up from my seat and headed towards the front car in order to be close to the exit at my stop. As I walked, I passed two more smokers and then started to notice numerous cigarette butts on the platform.

New York City has banned smoking in public places, but as of yet, Westchester County has not followed suit. There are no ashtrays on the platform, so at least they are not encouraging smokers. But for a non-smoker, the smell of burnt tobacco does not mix well with the taste of freshly brewed coffee.

I actually don’t mind if people want to smoke. What I object to is when the exhaust from their burning tobacco invades the space under my nostrils.

They can choose not to smoke.

I can’t choose not to breathe.