ROAMING PACKS OF VELOCIRAPTORS

One of my all-time favourite cigar-smokers showed up at the Last Man Standing yesterday. What makes her one of my favourites is that she is cute, intelligent, and has exceptional taste in cheroots.
That, gentlepersons, is a killer combo right there.
Cute, intelligent, exceptional taste.

Let's call her 'Suzy'.


[Last Man Standing: an affectionate nickname for the only commercial enterprise left in the West Bay zone where you can still get good advice on smokeable rods, such as Padron, Lafd, Arturo Fuente, Partagas, Matilde, Eric Bradley, Liga Privada, Flor De Las Antilles, Davidoff, et mult altres, as well as substances by Rattrays, MacBaren, G. L. Pease, McClelland, Orlik, Esoterica, Germain & Son, et alii, quod commemorare longum est. There were once over a dozen such in San Francisco alone. All gone now.]

A woman who knows what she likes, why she likes it, and who can both intelligently explain and justify that liking, without being defensive, patronizing, or apologetic.

I admire such people.


An individual quite unlike the three silly young ladies at the cigar bar recently, who radiated a sense of entitlement, kept misplacing their lighters, purses, and drinks, and letting their cigars go out. Which necessitated a search for lighters, purses, and drinks, as well as an insistent imposing on the three gentlemen in conversation nearby.
Speaking as just one of those, I would have preferred no twitty interruptions.

I feel confident that the other two felt the same.

Silliness, bling, and tits, can only go so far.

If Suzy, whom I mentioned in my first paragraph, had interrupted, all three of us would have welcomed it; she is intelligent, without being defensive, snooty, or apologetic.

But she and her young man live in Marin County. The trip to the Oxxy might be too far of an evening. And I think he is only an occasional smoker, so it might stress him out to be surrounded by middle-aged dudes who are suddenly keen to chat.

That wouldn't be my first choice of date either.

A room filled with smoke and smokers.

It just isn't particularly romantic.

Too many carnivores.



It would have to be a slow night, early on a weekend, after noodles or fish in Chinatown, and only if M. and R. were there to run interference.
R. can hold her own, and is very good at chasing away the unsuitable element. Especially when she feels protective.


It's a concept.



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