Friday, January 20, 2006
I got off the train at Washington and Dearborn for my traditional Friday visit to the bank and the Daley Center Starbucks (and a quick trip to Walgreens for giant band-aids so I can rebandage Jazzy when I get home). For years I've been in the habit of holding my breath near the stairs, because the staircase is always clogged with lawyers and civil servants sucking on cigarettes. It's impossible to go from the El to the surface without passing through a dense cloud of carcinogens.
Today, a few days after the enactment of the citywide ban on smoking in all public places, the stairway was clear, the air was sweet (well, as sweet as it gets in a city). Where did the smokers go? Wherever it is, they're not actively killing me anymore, and I am content. Maybe they'll even be encouraged to stop actively killing themselves as well. Thank you, Chicago City Council.