Greetings all,
My name is Justin and I am a co-worker of RX7Boricua here in the fine country of Kuwait. I guess to introduce myself I will tell you all how I was introduced to the smoking pleasures of the Leaf.
I was 18 and had finally gotten, what I thought, was a good job working in the data backup tape reproduction industry running production lines. Actally making more then a pizza cooks wages and so I had to open a bank account. My folks had an account with a bank called First International in Southern California and so I went there to open an account. The branch in our town sat in a larger old school type of stock SoCal strip mall, you know the whole brown painted facia and the rundown seedy overhangs and small nich shops packed together like the city wanted you to drive by without seeing them. Well I open my account and kept back a few dollars and walking out the door of the bank I looked to my right and there is was. Smashed between a Foster's Donuts on the corner and a travel agency was a little two hole place called Gentleman's Quarterly. The front window had an H.Uppman cigar neon and a Zippo display case, lit and slowly turning. Through the window you could see the place was small and that it was packed to the top with dark woods and display cases. I walked over to the window and looked in. It was all brass and dark stained hardwoods throughout. I walked inside to the scent of a musty old world scent mixed with the sweet notes of burning pipe tobacco. I had stepped back in time it seemed like. I looked to my left and there sat the propritor of the establishment, smouldering hand carved pipe. Behind him was a bevel paned glass and oak door, through which you could see that the other side of the small store was a walk in humidor. I greeted the gentleman sitting behind the counter then started to wander the narrow isles, kinda gingerly threading my way through looking here and there at the combined collection of a smoking paradise for affluent people. The type of things that I had only seen in friend's houses of parents with money, or the collected smoking accessaroies that my grandfater had collected over the years.
Rounding the back side of the center island I browsed back up to the front counter where the gentleman asked if I was looking for a gift for my dad, or if there was anything he could do to help. I looked to the left, into the walk in humidor, and asked if he knew a good cigar that I might try. I told him I had landed a good job and that a cigar would be a nice gift to myself for the accomplishment. He put his pipe down on a burled walnut stand and turned and opened the door to the humidor. "Come in and do you know anything about cigars, son?" he asked me. The feel of the mild cooled moist air washed over me, and the leathery musty sweet smell of what I would later know as aging cigars, enveloped me. I told him that I knew nothing but had been interested in them for a few years. He proceeded to give me a small history lesson on where the ideas of rolling tobacco to smoke came from and a little into the actual proccess of how a cigar is made. He asked me what kind of flavors I liked, if I liked sharp peppery taste or did I like a more smooth mild taste. I told him that I honestly did not know which taste I was more into. He said I think I have just the right cigar for you to cut your teeth on. He pulls out a H.Uppman Churchill Tubo and says this is a good middle of the road cigar that you can deceide if you want a stronger or milder flavor. Now at this point I was trying to figure out how was I suppose to smoke this thing and where, but he saw that comming and headed me off at the pass. "would you like me to cut it and you are more then welcome to smoke that here" he said as we exited the humidor. "But the city doesn't let people smoke indoors" I blithly said, forgetting that he was smoking a pipe when I walked in. "Screw them commie healthnut freaks, they hate me and have been after me for years about this place." "I own this place and I smoke in this place." Nuff said, He clipped the end off the cigar and pulls out a box of kitchen matches. "You always want to toast the end, before lighting." he said. "Do not inhale the smoke unless you want an unpleasant suprise." he also said. As I lit up and drew my first few draws he explained about hints of flavors and notes that each cigar would have and how they would become more pronounced as the cigar burned shorter. As we smoked, him with his pipe me with my first cigar, he said this is truly what smoking cigars are about. Sitting, enjoying time at a slower pace, and talking about whatever crosses the mind. In that moment I became a true lover of the leaf and all the great things that come with being a cigar smoker.
So thats my story and I appoligize for the length, but if it wasnt for that man and the time he took to sell an 18 yr old kid a 4 dollar stick, then I wouldn't, have had some of the best times in life that I have had with a stick in my hand to accentuate it and savor the moment.
P.S. Currently going to enjoy a Partagas Serie. D No.1 LE 2004 ;P
My name is Justin and I am a co-worker of RX7Boricua here in the fine country of Kuwait. I guess to introduce myself I will tell you all how I was introduced to the smoking pleasures of the Leaf.
I was 18 and had finally gotten, what I thought, was a good job working in the data backup tape reproduction industry running production lines. Actally making more then a pizza cooks wages and so I had to open a bank account. My folks had an account with a bank called First International in Southern California and so I went there to open an account. The branch in our town sat in a larger old school type of stock SoCal strip mall, you know the whole brown painted facia and the rundown seedy overhangs and small nich shops packed together like the city wanted you to drive by without seeing them. Well I open my account and kept back a few dollars and walking out the door of the bank I looked to my right and there is was. Smashed between a Foster's Donuts on the corner and a travel agency was a little two hole place called Gentleman's Quarterly. The front window had an H.Uppman cigar neon and a Zippo display case, lit and slowly turning. Through the window you could see the place was small and that it was packed to the top with dark woods and display cases. I walked over to the window and looked in. It was all brass and dark stained hardwoods throughout. I walked inside to the scent of a musty old world scent mixed with the sweet notes of burning pipe tobacco. I had stepped back in time it seemed like. I looked to my left and there sat the propritor of the establishment, smouldering hand carved pipe. Behind him was a bevel paned glass and oak door, through which you could see that the other side of the small store was a walk in humidor. I greeted the gentleman sitting behind the counter then started to wander the narrow isles, kinda gingerly threading my way through looking here and there at the combined collection of a smoking paradise for affluent people. The type of things that I had only seen in friend's houses of parents with money, or the collected smoking accessaroies that my grandfater had collected over the years.
Rounding the back side of the center island I browsed back up to the front counter where the gentleman asked if I was looking for a gift for my dad, or if there was anything he could do to help. I looked to the left, into the walk in humidor, and asked if he knew a good cigar that I might try. I told him I had landed a good job and that a cigar would be a nice gift to myself for the accomplishment. He put his pipe down on a burled walnut stand and turned and opened the door to the humidor. "Come in and do you know anything about cigars, son?" he asked me. The feel of the mild cooled moist air washed over me, and the leathery musty sweet smell of what I would later know as aging cigars, enveloped me. I told him that I knew nothing but had been interested in them for a few years. He proceeded to give me a small history lesson on where the ideas of rolling tobacco to smoke came from and a little into the actual proccess of how a cigar is made. He asked me what kind of flavors I liked, if I liked sharp peppery taste or did I like a more smooth mild taste. I told him that I honestly did not know which taste I was more into. He said I think I have just the right cigar for you to cut your teeth on. He pulls out a H.Uppman Churchill Tubo and says this is a good middle of the road cigar that you can deceide if you want a stronger or milder flavor. Now at this point I was trying to figure out how was I suppose to smoke this thing and where, but he saw that comming and headed me off at the pass. "would you like me to cut it and you are more then welcome to smoke that here" he said as we exited the humidor. "But the city doesn't let people smoke indoors" I blithly said, forgetting that he was smoking a pipe when I walked in. "Screw them commie healthnut freaks, they hate me and have been after me for years about this place." "I own this place and I smoke in this place." Nuff said, He clipped the end off the cigar and pulls out a box of kitchen matches. "You always want to toast the end, before lighting." he said. "Do not inhale the smoke unless you want an unpleasant suprise." he also said. As I lit up and drew my first few draws he explained about hints of flavors and notes that each cigar would have and how they would become more pronounced as the cigar burned shorter. As we smoked, him with his pipe me with my first cigar, he said this is truly what smoking cigars are about. Sitting, enjoying time at a slower pace, and talking about whatever crosses the mind. In that moment I became a true lover of the leaf and all the great things that come with being a cigar smoker.
So thats my story and I appoligize for the length, but if it wasnt for that man and the time he took to sell an 18 yr old kid a 4 dollar stick, then I wouldn't, have had some of the best times in life that I have had with a stick in my hand to accentuate it and savor the moment.
P.S. Currently going to enjoy a Partagas Serie. D No.1 LE 2004 ;P
