Marlboro, red

I bought my first pack of cigarettes yesterday.

Breakneck speed, low visibility. We turned left from a right hand lane, at the same time that a policeman was going straight from a left hand lane. We almost killed him.

Naturally, he pulled us over (us somehow more at fault than he).

He was shaking when he asked for the license of the vehicle's driver. The driver and the spanish speaker went to witness to him while the PR team went to call home.

We passed by the team in action, witnessing to the cop, and mentioned we were going to get a phone card to call the owner of the car. The cop was smiling by now and playfully told us to bring him a pack of cigarettes while we were at it.

I laughed at his joke.

Not the driver. He looked stern and held my eyes and said, "No, GET HIM A PACK OF CIGARETTES."

I said, "Ohhh."

And so it was that for the first time in my life at the ripe age of 23, I marched up to the counter at the convenience store down the street, leaned over and conspiratorially whispered into the coy lady's ear, "And a pack of cigarettes to go with that, please. Marlboro. Red."

By the time we got back, the Lord and the keys had done the miracle once again and we were free. The reds were the cherry on top of the deal, handed over because they were of no use to us anyway. One less "things I won't do."

Smile, wave, and drive your best as you drive away.