What is it about bumming a cigarette that makes it easier than bumming a dollar? Perhaps it’s the sense of comraderie one smoker feels with another. Two thirds of men and one fifth of women in most populated countries smoke, and for women, more and more are lighting up each year.
It can be argued that bumming a cigarette has a direct, no nonsense intent; I’m giving you this cigarette, which you’re going to smoke. I’m comforted by this. You cannot, possibly, do anything else with a cigarette besides smoke it. I’m greatful for your quick decision. You’re having a bad day; inhale, feel better. Help me quit by taking away my cigarettes. In a wonderful world where so many people have the chance to share their different perspectives on life, the german butcher can have just one thing to say to the hipster PETA activist, “Got a light?”
In an effort to stop smoking, I ceased from buying cigarettes and inevitably became the lab rat in urban social experiment. From whom and where could I bum the most cigarettes. The answer: The Milford Plaza Hotel on West 44th St.
First, a quick etymological disection of the word ‘bum’. ‘Bum’ in the American language is derived, most likely, from the German verb, bummeln which means to loaf around or saunter aimlessly. But by definition, ‘bum’ means to borrow without the intention of giving back. Sure, smoking causes cancer, birth defects and blood clots among other things, but generosity I would argue, is promoted.
Tourists come from all over the world to visit Times Square, and at nearly 200 dollars a night, the Milford Plaza Hotel is one of the safest and cheapest places to stay for tourists.
And so the trap is set. The stinky cheese, or smell of stale cigarettes, dangles in the air as I ascend from the subway stop at 44th and 8th ave. I spot a women in her mid forties, surrounded by tour guide peddlers and car drivers, and I gently approach her side.
” Excuse me, Miss. Could you spare a cigarette?”
” I don’t speak English,” she says confidently.
I swipe my fingers to my lips, simulating the motion of taking a drag.
” Oh, yesss,” She responds joyfully. She takes out her pack, almost full, and offers them to me. I think about taking more than one, but swipe a single cigarette instead.
” Thank you,”I say, bowing to her in respect as I walk away.
Other days, men have given me their last cigarettes, one gave me his lighter to keep. Friends that don’t regularly smoke have told me that they light up when visiting new cities. “It gives people the impression that I’m a local or possess some sort of identity (rather than a wandering tourist).” Sure, they probably just think you’re smoking.
I kept this in the back of my mind as greeted these total strangers with a smile and a simple request. By bumming a cigarette, as a person living and working in NYC, I’m offering them in exchange, a bit of local hospitality. I’m comforting them in a city so unfamiliar.
“New Yorkers are notorious for being hardasses,” they’ll say, ” but the one I met said ‘Thank you’ when he bummed a cigarette from me.”
Although I’ve quit smoking, I still scope out possible hot spots for bumming. Exteriors of bars at night are always popular, as are the entrances of Post Production Suites during lunch time. But I’m convinced that nothing could ever compare to the generous tenants of the Milford Plaza Hotel on West 44th St.
2 Comments
February 12, 2008 at 8:23 pm
does anybody know where the spare cherokee keys are?
February 21, 2008 at 7:50 pm
Skye: a question to tackle in your next post.
While slacking off in class I was browsing Metacritic, and noticed that all the different average ratings for music differ in score much less than the average ratings for movies. This indicated (to me) two possibilities: either critics are in general in more agreement over what is a good album and less as to what is a good movie; or critics agree across media but there is more good music than good movies. My way of thinking is that all aspects of culture are equally “good”, i.e. on the whole music these days is just as good as movies these days because culture moves monolithically, so I’m inclined to say that for some reason critics just cannot agree on music the way they can on movies. This seems true and is reflected in the attitude that music is more a matter of taste than movies.
Your thoughts?