I was hypnotized when I quit smoking. The nun, a nontraditional one, wore no habit attire (can't come up with joke...a nun helping people quit a habit). She called it progressive relaxation, not hypnosis. The person who referred her to me called it hypnosis. All it really did was give me a point in time to say "Ok...right now!...I stop." September 14, 1985...twenty two years, four months, 19 days ago...but who counts?
Occasionally I have a hankering to buy a little Prince Albert and a pipe, just to have a bowl a night or two a week. I want to smell the smell. It’s the first tobacco I ever bought and I am sure I bought more PA than any other tobacco in my dozen year long smoking career. The smell always made me think of Granddaddy Williamson.
When I stopped by the dry cleaners recently I went into the smoke shop next door, one of those fancy cigar and pipe places.
"Hi. I have a friend who used to smoke Prince Albert pipe tobacco, but says he can't find it. Do you carry it?"
"Actually we keep a couple of the large tins for one of our customers."
"Great. I was thinking about getting some for my friend."
"Is your friend an older gentleman? Our customer is an older man; that's who
asks for Prince Albert."
[ pause ]
"Yes, he's older, but I don’t think I’ll but any today. I’ll be back."
But I haven't.