Six years ago I gave up smoking the pipe after it gave me a very bad cough. I must admit I immensely enjoyed smoking for 25 years. I got a great kick out of messing with the pipe - cleaning it, filling it and lighting it. I must have been responsible for the demise of numerous rain forests with all the matches I used. Even having it in my pocket meant I had a friend around. But unfortunately those within a half mile were always in danger from the clouds of smoke I used to contentedly emit.
In the old days you never thought of the damage you were causing to others. I remember being in cinemas where you couldn't see the screen with all the smoke rising. And on the screen Humphrey Bogart or John Wayne would be heavily pulling on their enormous cigars before demolishing some punk with their bare hands. It was the fashion of the time and we always wanted to emulate the stars. You were nobody unless you were puffing a fag, a cigar or a pipe. It was a status symbol.
Tough on smokers
How times have changed. Smokers nowadays are a pilloried species and if they try to light up anywhere they are likely to get a tap on the shoulder or a withering look from some indignant fellow citizen. It is tough being a smoker: so tough, in fact, that I'm glad I'm out of the firing line. I read of a case in America of a heavy smoker fighting back and taking the law into his own hands. It happened on the subway in New York. A highly agitated man came up to him and demanded that he put out his foul-smelling weed. The smoker, a man of few words, casually stuck his hand into his pocket, pulled out a gun and shot the complainant stone dead. Some smokers certainly take their pastime quite seriously.
In 1995, the Earl of Lovelace took a two-week, 4,000-mile detour so he could smoke en route to Australia rather than take the direct route - a mere 36 hours - on an airline that had banned smoking. Two years ago another smoker, Alasdair Keith from Glasgow, paid an extra £350 to fly to Australia with airlines that allowed him to smoke.
The Sunday Times recently reported that some British airlines are considering handing out nicotine patches or chewing gum impregnated with nicotine to passengers on non-smoking flights after studies showed that most air rage incidents are caused by those desperate for a cigarette. A British Air Transport Association survey shows that, of 1,000 incidents where staff or passengers were threatened or abused in 1998, 60 per cent were linked to smoking bans. However, British Airways looked at giving away nicotine patches but decided against it because they were meant to be provided by pharmacists. This is no longer the case with nicotine chewing gum.
Stress of flying
The British Aviation Health Institute says that smokers are particularly prone to the stresses of flying, which include less oxygen in the air. Cabin air is pressurised to about 8,000ft, making it much thinner than at ground level. It means passengers are more susceptible to hypoxia, or oxygen starvation, the symptoms of which are confusion, tiredness, dizziness and lack of co-ordination. For a smoker on a long-haul flight, that could amount to a 25 per cent decrease in the amount of oxygen in the blood.
However, what brings me to the verge of air rage is not smokers, but those unfortunate nervous people who are afraid of flying. They manage to instil a feeling of insecurity into everybody in their immediate vicinity, people who never dreamt there was a possibility of a crash.
I once had a bad experience on a flight from Spain. The plane hit extremely heavy turbulence and bumped and veered crazily from side to side. It practically turned upside down. I was bearing up heroically under the trying conditions until a highly religious woman in front panicked and started reciting the rosary in a booming voice. That certainly upped the ante. We only thought we were in danger, but this woman left us in no doubt that the end was indeed nigh. It sent a chill down my spine. I began to wonder how The Irish Times would handle my obituary.
Tasteless food
Smokers don't bother me in the least. What does worry me is being cramped in a confined space and having to eat tasteless food so tightly wrapped that you would need dynamite to get at it. I had one very unfortunate experience travelling from Amsterdam to Dublin. I was seated beside this extremely well dressed, pernickity English man, who seemed to sniff at everything. He was a pompous little chap and when it came to the meal, he eat like a purring cat, each bit of food carefully cut up and then daintily placed in his mouth. As usual, I had problems opening the plastic milk carton. Just when I thought a screwdriver would be required, it burst all over the place, splashing white foam across my fastidious neighbour's immaculate blue shirt and trousers.
I was mortified. If it had been any normal human being beside me I wouldn't have minded. Being a good judge of character, I had rightly deduced this individual wouldn't have a sense of humour or a forgiving nature. I managed to blurt out: "I'm very sorry . . ." He looked at me with disdain, as though I was some form of low life. He said in a slow, hissing voice: "That is the only suit I have with me and I have a business conference in the morning". That was the end of our conversation. It put me in my place. I felt like a bold child.