Don’t smoke

Garrick Hodge sports editor

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As I woke up Sunday morning, I couldn’t help but mutter to myself “son of a gun — only I didn’t say gun — I’m an idiot.” 

While anyone who has been in college for any extended period of time has probably used this expression of regret multiple times, it may not have been for smoking during a night out.

Now, I am not a smoker. Never have been, and hopefully never will be as long as I live. We’ve all gone through the eight freaking years of DARE in school and have been shown the awful effects that it causes. Hell, not too long ago someone had to teach me how to even smoke a damn cigarette. 

So, why is it that despite my knowledge of how terrible cigarettes are for the human body, I tend to say “screw the warnings, it’s the freakin’ weekend, let’s do it”? 

There are two reasons that come to the top of my head. 

For one, pretty girls always seem to smoke at bars — wait, I mean, at least I think they’re pretty (They do get prettier as the night goes on). 

Second, smoking somehow seems to lead to making new friends — even if the only reason they are socializing with me is to bum a cig — and some very strange (but entertaining) conversations. 

While Saturday night certainly had its enjoyable moments — some that I remember — I can’t seem to recall how many cigars/cigarettes I inhaled throughout the course of the night. 

 What I do remember, however, is waking up with my lungs feeling like someone clogged them with gasoline. Not to mention that I couldn’t stop coughing, either. 

You know how students (OK let’s be honest, freshmen) say, “I’m never drinking again after last night?”

Well, I’m saying, “I’m never smoking again after last night.”

Unfortunately, just as the freshmen don’t abide by their promise, I probably won’t either.