People Will Smoke Anything These Days

I don’t know if it’s a desperate times, desperate measures kind of thing, but at three points in the last three days I have been stopped by strangers in the street who have asked if I have an “extra” cigarette. When offered my customary denial — a sad shake of the head, a barely audible “sorry” — each of them inquired as to whether I was going to “finish” the particular stick I was smoking. I handed it off in every case, but I find it more than a little disturbing: If New York’s vagabond inhalers are transformed into a group of irascible alcoholics through some sort of communicable breath disease, I feel like I’m going to be the one who takes the blame. Also, WTF? I’m supposed to look unapproachable, damn it! Maybe it’s time for that eye patch.