Cough cough sputter sputter

I hate smokers.



Okay. I should correct that. I hate rude smokers. You know, the ones who think that they have the right to MAKE me inhale the poison they CHOOSE to inhale. I would rather not have lung cancer, thank you. Plus, I have mild asthma, and smoke of any kind will bring on an attack or worsen my ability to breathe. Once I got older and grew a partial spine, I have coughed with much emotion, held my breath in an obvious manner, and occasionally said something loudly to whomever I am with, so that the offender would notice that I didn't approve of his/her puffing around me.



Now I have a child. Gloves off. Spine complete.



I have the Arizona anti-smoking reporting line programmed into my cell phone, and I am not afraid to use it. It is listed under NO SMOKING!. I laugh every time I scroll down and see it. I have already gone into two businesses and informed them that there were smokers outside their stores breaking the law. Businesses are required to take care of it, or they may be reported and eventually fined. Both times, the employees were clueless. I didn't care. I proceeded to tell them the laws of which they were ignorant. They looked at me like I am a crazy woman. Better crazy than chemo, I say. Better crazy than my sweet baby having to walk through a cloud of tobacco dust.



My latest experience with rudeness took place this past Saturday night. I was with my husband at a hotel in Phoenix, where we were celebrating his birthday with a weekend getaway (fun times!). We had a little pool all to ourselves for awhile, which gave me time to practice the only skill, the clam shell, I remember from my synchronized swimming lessons one summer in high school. I would do the clam shell, and he would give me a score from one to ten, like in gymnastics. My highest was a 9, my lowest a 2. Oh yes. Do we ever really grow up? I can't wait to earn a ten!Come to think of it, I only took ballet for one year, as well. I didn't really want to stick with these things, I guess. They taught me some great skills for entertaining, though, I tell you.



Back on track ... a woman and her two cute little boys joined us in the pool. We were all swimming, swimming, having a nice time. I smelled smoke, so I asked my eternal companion if he did. I didn't have my contacts in, so I had no idea from where it came. I asked loudly, by the way. He said, much more quietly, that he saw it. Once I knew it was the mom of the boys, who had exited the pool, we decided to adjourn to our room. As we walked out of the area, past the cancer-spreader, I plugged my nose and coughed. Only part of my backbone was working then, I suppose. Why didn't I say something? I kick myself.



I don't know the law for smoking at pools, so I didn't really have any firm ground on which to stand. I will learn it, however, mark my words, and next time, watch out!