Saturday, December 02, 2006

Smoke-free Ohio

Harry is doing a story on the "Smoke-free Ohio" legislation that just passed in the November election. His research requires him to visit all three bars in town to get owner, bartender, and customer reaction.

Harry enters the Gulch at dusk. It's happy hour and there are only two or three stools left at the bar. The air is blue with smoke. Virtually everyone at the bar has a cigarette going. The jukebox is blasting 70s rock. He sets his note pad on the bar and takes a stool next to a guy who could be Prince's little brother.

The bartender is a tall, well-built black woman with short hair. It only takes a minute or so to get her attention. Harry looks down the bar to see what others are drinking and orders a Bud Light. When she brings his bottle, he tells her why he is there. Her name is Debbie and she is willing to cooperate, but the place is busy and she runs off to get someone else a drink.

Harry feels a hand on his back. He is surprised when he turns to see that the man behind him is a stranger. The older man looks benign enough, so Harry relaxes.

"What's your name," the man asks.

Harry reacts like the New Yorker he is. "What's yours?"

He looks around to gauge the reaction in his immediate area. He senses nothing but goodwill.

"I'm Harry, Harry Kresge," he says, "and you?"

"John Pitstick. I don't know you, do I?" the man says. "Do you know me?"

"No I don't," Harry says. "But I know the Pitstick name - long-time farmers around here."

After the man confirms that he is indeed a part of that lineage, Harry tries to engage him in converstation about the upcoming smoking ban. But Pitstick only wants to talk about the Ohio State - Michigan game that was played a few weeks before. Harry finally gets it, when the man points to Harry's hat. It's red, with the letters "OH" in bold white relief. Pitstick finally tires of the conversation and returns to his seat.

The man on Harry's left asks him if he is a reporter. Harry says he is and asks the man his name, but he won't give it.

"Don't want anyone to know you were in a bar?" Harry asks.

The man readily admits to it. He also reveals that although he is a regular at the Gulch, he neither smokes nor drinks. Harry finally notices the Shirley Temple on the bar in front of him.

"Well then, what the hell are you doing here?" Harry asks.

"The women," the man says.

Debbie returns. She has a few minutes to talk. Although she herself does not smoke, she feels that secondhand smoke is not a problem for her.

"We have very good ventilation in here," she says, pointing to the large duct system directly above the bar. "The smoke never reaches me. And when I go home at night, my clothes and hair don't even smell of smoke."

She is convincing, but Harry is dubious. After some more intelligent insights, she spies some friends who have come in and are standing at the other end of the bar. She excuses herself.

Harry's bottle is only half empty. He considers leaving it, but that runs against a lifetime of beer drinking. He cautiously turns to the thin young black man on his right, who has been trying to get his attention all the while he was talking to Debbie.

"So you're a reporter, eh?" The young Prince seems friendly enough.

Harry has seen this guy around town before. His dreads, tight leather pants, and the long leather sheaths, tied with thongs, on each arm are memorable.

"Yeah, I'm doing a story about the new Smoke-free Ohio law."

The man hasn't heard about it, because he was in San Francisco during the election campaign.

"I don't really smoke, myself," he says. Then, looking at the cigarette in his hand, he adds, "Only when I'm in bars."

After a short rambling conversation, Harry finishes his beer and starts to excuse himself.

The man extends his hand. "My mother named me Eros," he says.

"I'm Harry. I have to go now," Kresge says and grabs his note pad.

It has gotten dark. The rain that started while he was in the bar is like a fine Irish lace on his face. Harry is glad for the fresh air. He feels as if he has shortened his life by the half-hour or so he spent in the Gulch.

As he comes to his car, he looks across the street at Peach's, thinks better of it, and goes home.