I’m at the club, I’ve been workin for an hour, steady show, but I’ve got another bartender behind the bar, so everything’s runnin smoothly. I tell my fellow bartender, hey man, I’m gonna take 5. He says, cool. I grab my cigs and black Bic lighter, go outside, and light up. Oh my God, it tastes so good. The first drag is the best. The last drag is the sorrow. I love smokin cigarettes. It’s one of my favorite hobbies. I love everything about it. The first cigarette of the day. This is what you do. You sleepily make the coffee, while it’s brewing, you go outside for a smoke. Does it taste good? Oh hell yeah it tastes good. Right off the bat, one of the best parts of my day. Finish up the smoke, go back inside, pour myself a cup of coffee, splash of cream, sip on that for five minutes, then go out for another smoke.
I haven’t done that in six years, and I still miss it, from time to time.
I’ve been addicted to many things in my life. Hard drugs, not some much, but I have experimented a bit. No heroin. Nothing serious. I would NEVER do heroin. I’d probably like it.
One of the main problems with addiction is, not so much being addicted per se, but being ignorant to the fact that you ARE addicted. You find out, soon enough, how much you’re addicted to the drug, when you quit it, and could gnaw your fist off.
Nowadays, when I take five, I go in the stairwell, get away from the action for five minutes, sit on a cheap lawn chair, and sip my N/A Kaliber.
And it’s disgusting. But better than nothing, I suppose.
From my heart to yours,
Clint Curtis. Bartender.