Smoking

I remember my first day at FUMA, way back in 1985. And of the many events (notice I don't add the word 'wonderful'), one was truly stupid. My roommate, Chris Williams didn't walk up and shake hands. He didn't say,"Hey. Let's be pals." No. His first sentence was,"Do you have a smoking permit?" Greedy eyes were behind that question. And he was gone quicker than crap through a goose when I told him,"No."

Of course, that wasn't the end of it. My Buddy Todd Jones DID have a permit and lots of guys wanting to hang out in his room as a result. Tom David not had a permit, but was so nicotene hungry he would sit in front of a fan and blow smoke into the fan, thus getting both first and second hand smoke. Brilliant, as the Guiness ale guys would say.

The permits were gone by the end of 1987, but the nicotene demon remained. I'll never forget the panic Mark Bowman and I had when we got caught smoking on the cross country course by Ben Arritt. I was sure we were going up for tours. But, Ben kept his mouth shut.

Not smart enough to quit tempting fate, Mike Owens, me and a couple of other guys went off the cross country course, down by the creek and lit up...only to get nailed by Colonel Davis and Battalion Staff. We all tried not to breathe and Davis was inches from our faces, telling us we should all be nailed for AWOL. But, I guess my Dad's friendship with Colonel Davis paid off: no demerits for us.

Smoking was pretty well a dumb thing to try by my senior year (and had been replaced by mind altering substances; not in great amounts, but definitely there around campus). It still happened. But, not by me. I had learned my lessons, finally. It wouldn't be until I got to ECU before I lit up again. It would take another five years to put them down for good.