Fresh Air

When I wrote about being in Vegas, I forgot to mention something that was really interesting to me about The Cosmopolitan.

I hate smoking. It drives me totally crazy. Well, I don’t mind the idea of smoking. Go do whatever the fuck you want. I just hate the smell of it. I hate the smell of stale smoke leftover on smokers, or on myself if I’ve been in a smoky place, and I really am made utterly miserable when I am where I can smell somebody actively smoking.

There was a time when it didn’t bother me. I became sensitive while I was pregnant. I became sensitive to damn near everything while I was pregnant, and I vomited for 8.5 months. It was gross and miserable. Smoke was one of the major triggers (as was the smell of mint). More than 16 years later, the reaction has eased, but it never went away.

So, I hate being near smoking, and find it very difficult to be actively social with smokers, because even if they are very courteous about not ever smoking near me, they always stink to me.

I am not actually in favor of laws banning smoking in establishments, as I believe that should be up to the business owner, but I do enjoy the benefit of those laws, and have lived for a very long time now in places where I am not asked whether I want to sit in the smoking or non-smoking section when I enter a restaurant. The culture shock of being back in Nevada always catches me a little off guard. I drive into Vegas and think, and often say, “Why don’t we come here more often?” but 10 minutes in a casino and I remember exactly why I don’t go there more often.

Which brings me to the point of the post (thought I’d never get there, right?).

Something about the air system at The Cosmopolitan was amazing. The smokers there didn’t bother me at all. Yes, I could smell smoke if I stood immediately next to a person with a lit cigarette, but at a few feet away, the smoke was not reaching me. I don’t know how they do it, but I wish every place was doing it.

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