To All The Smokers

You do not get to claim The Outside.

To the office workers who think that the Lynn Street sidewalk is their smoking break room. To the man with the slow burn walking 100 yards in front of me all for the 10 minute walk to the metro that one week my car was in the shop during my pregnancy.  To the lady smoking next to the only door of Starbucks on Lynn Street right next to a no-smoking sign on the table. To the teenager who decided to smoke while walking down the street in front of me and my baby, leaving us nowhere to go to get away from you. To three twenty-somethings today who chose to light up five seats down from me and my baby while we were resting during our walk, instead of all of the other seats that were available far, far away from us. To the two business people who did the exact same thing yesterday. This is for you.

You do not get to claim the sidewalks, the entrances, and the outdoor seating.  You do not get to claim The Outside.

I feel for you. I really do. You have this thing that really makes it all okay.  You just want to take a break. I get that. Life is sometimes hard, and these little pleasures get us through. You used to be able to do it everywhere, then in smoking rooms, now not in buildings, or near entrances. But, you do not get to claim The Outside. Just because you are outside does not mean you are allowed to exercise your right to smoke. If this is not something you can do without affecting other people, then maybe this is a habit that should be left for the privacy of your own home.

I want to take a break, too. I want to be able to use the sidewalk. To sit outside where it is not stuffy and my baby can watch the cars. To get a damn coffee without feeling like I am going to choke and die because my air supply is cut off. I want to take a walk with my baby and not panic because you are smoking on the sidewalk and we have nowhere to go. I want to sit and drink my coffee without having to immediately get up and leave. I want to enjoy a meal outside without you walking by and trashing it.

Oh, and if you see a child anywhere near you and you still light up, you are especially selfish. How dare you. How dare you. To the twenty-somethings who saw the angry, disappointed look on my face this morning as we flew off he bench, I hope you have better sense next time.  

To the two or three people who put it in my face everyday, I do not care that you smoke, but I do not want to know that you are there.  Get it out of our lives.

Thank you,

One Former Pregnant Lady Turned Frustrated Mom.