The first rule of quitting smoking with NJOY e-cigs: bring it with you. It helps. Tuesday, the FIRST day of this experiment I referenced in this post, I orphaned my NJOY King e-cig on my desk. In my rush to catch the shockingly beautiful performance of Lily and Madeline (video below) at Joe’s Pub and then the launch of photographer Ben Watt’s new wine company WineAwesome, I doomed myself to straight-out-of-the-gate failure. Luckily, my plus one for the evening, indie actress, filmmaker and cutlery artist Chelsea Miller of Chelsea Miller Knives doesn’t smoke. I certainly didn’t want to be Smokey McStinkerson and kill any chances I had of getting within breathing distance of her after dinner. I stayed strong(ish) for a bit.
The event on the rooftop of the James Hotel was total swank but the wine, well, it was wine-like. Once the open bar was done (and drinks became $17 apiece!) Chelsea and I met up with photographer Carlos Detresand his fiancée at Omen, my favorite Manhattan sushi joint for some sorely needed alcohol absorption (and consumption.) The conversation was great but the cravings were greater. I knew Carlos smoked and I was biting the inside of my cheek to not ask him for a cigarette. Before he could finish an offer to go outside, I accepted and was on the front steps of the restaurant huffing an American Spirit. Way to be a junkie, Christian!
The guilt was brimming and I felt compelled to explain that now I was going to have to write my first journal post about how I have infant-like willpower. I didn’t even finish the smoke (American Spirits are like long conversations with someone with bad breath) and went back inside. I was painfully aware that our aromatic meal that had just been delivered had nothing on our “just left an airport smoking lounge” cologne.
Funny side note: Diane Von Furstenburg was at the table across the aisle from us with a young girl that barely looked up from her iPhone the entire dinner. How does one dine with a real-life Princess/fashion icon/insanely interesting person and text like there’s no tomorrow? Who was she talking to? The Dalai Lama? Weird. We caught eyes once (Diane) and swear there was a brief “Save Me” moment.
We finished our dinner and went outside to loosen belts and chit-chat before cabbing back to our respective boroughs. If you’ve ever smoked, you know that the after-dinner one is crucial. I caved. Chelsea and I shared a cab back to Brooklyn and after dropping her off in Williamsburg I continued to Bushwick with more than a little disappointment.
Like most tales of relapse, once the cat was out of the bag it runs roughshod all over your plans of virtue. My buddy Brian ‘Kickout’ just moved back to NYC from Richmond and wanted to hang out. We went to Kings County in Bushwick and closed it down at 4AM before heading to my rooftop to watch the sun come up behind a few Heineken 22s. I was reminded, as my eyelids finally started to droop, that today was another day and bringing the damn thing with me is a pretty good idea. I was on time for work. Almost.
NEXT TIME: Spiritual Life Coach Emily Tepper, Diane Von Furstenburg: The Sequel, The Mutherfuggin’ Subway, Team Spirit, Belle Mare, Widowspeak and the Northside Festival.