He who opens a school door, closes a prison - Victor Hugo
Having grown up with a chain smoking father, cigarettes and smoking were the last thing on my mind as a teenager. Joining the navy and finding myself on a deployment to the South Atlantic in my second year, I suddenly felt a longing for a smoke, but with something with a bit more sophistication than a pusser's pack of fags. The first two cigars I purchased were a respectable size but clearly badly built, traded with a hawker in a sleezy nightclub in Senegal for god knows what currency, Dakar Dollars maybe. While the first suffered the indignity of being puffed on the dance floor like a trumpet, red hot ash dispersing on everyone within six foot, the club subsumed in a toxic cloud of smoke and ash; the other was brutally crushed in my back pocket, a real crime scene the next morning.
Similar incidents followed; all down the west coast of Africa poorly crafted cigars met their end at my hands. hawkers were sent off in all directions, in search of cigars for this foreigner's insatiable blood lust. My first contact with a quality Cuban came in Cape Town. A slight currency conversion error on my part when presented with options for cigars meant I parted with the equivalent of £40 for a surprised look from the Bartender and two extemely handsome looking Monte Cristos. Not understanding the concept of a guillotine, I bit the end off one and proceeded to reduce the air quality at yet another venue with my incesant puffing. I'll never know what happened to the other; like most violent crime it won't surprise you to hear alochol was involed in all of these incidents.
Swooping down to the Falklands and then back up South America and through the Caribbean over the next five months, things started to improve a little. There were no more biting incidents and the cigars were usually smoked with some semblance of decorum. Back to blighty a few months later and these crimes were forgotten, cigars only to be brought out at the odd wedding. So the years went by, the memories faded, and I met my wife an American from New Jersey. My wife moved to the UK, but on trips to the USA I was invited to sit out on the porch with my father in law where we'd shoot the breeze and he'd introduce me to different cigars. He was quick to instruct me on correct cigar etiquette, took me along to cigar stores to show me his favourite brands like Perdomo, Arturo Fuente, and Olivas. That went on for a few years, I'd usually come back to Blighty with a tin of the Drew Estates acid krush which would usually last me until the next time I'd be out there and onto the good stuff again.
I've grown up a bit more now, I have my own family, and I am more appreciative of the finer things in life. I am finding that with things so busy with life's general stresses, taking an hour out on a Saturday afternoon to be able to sit outside and take it all in with a cigar is priceless. Despite my shocking criminal record in the Cigar world, I'm hoping you will all be willing to wipe the slate clean and open the school door to me. My experience to date has been in New World Cigars, so having the opportunity in the UK to get hold of the Cuban cigars will be interesting. In the medium term I want to get a Humidor and get some practice with maintaining the temperature and humidity, slowy building a collection from there. I'll be scouring these forums to undertand the best place to get hold of Cigars (Smoke-king at the moment for me), and mid-range brands that I can enjoy without breaking the bank. Nice to meet you all, I hope you'll forgive me and help me repay my debt to the cigar society, I have a lot to learn and any feedback you have for me is appreciated.
Easyrhino
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