Before I begin this story, you have to understand the relationship my husband and father have. It's tense but cordial. My father is a fanatical atheist and doesn't like that my love for my husband took me 600 miles away from him. But they manage. Whenever there is a visit on either our part or theirs, my Hubby and father always go out for a beer together.
My hubby was always a sneak smoker. He claimed he could take it our leave it, but you know that is never the case. He rarely smoked a lot, but I would find packs of cigarettes hidden in odd places. I thought he had kicked the habit entirely because that was the only condition I had put on our marriage. I refused to be married to a smoker (my dad smoked until I was 10 and I was always sick). My dad knew he was smoking, though. I guess it takes one to know one. Just this past year I learned my Hubby was smoking in our first church during a very tense semester in seminary.
Anywho, when E was 13 months old, my prissy English uncle was visiting for Christmas so we packed up and made the 10 hour trek home to Ohio. Hubby was having a really rough time at school being a newish dad, student and pastor. So my uncle and dad took him out drinking to blow off steam. But before he went out, we all ate pizza together at Donato's....meat lover's greasy pizza. Hubby who normally doesn't eat a lot, ate a lot of this pizza. One, we rarely get pizza and two, we never order it with ALL of his favorite meats! So this was quite a treat for him.
My dad was very good friends with the Scottish man who owned the local pub. When Hubby got to the pub he was treated like family, which meant free drinks. He started out simple, drinking a few glasses of Boddington's. No problem, he wasn't driving. But then the owner pulled out his special stash of cigars. Hubby loves cigars, but he hadn't smoked anything stronger than cigarettes in years. The owner insisted so Hubby pulled out a cigar and started to enjoy it.
But, according to my dad and the owner, you can't have a good cigar without a good stiff drink. The owner pulled out his Dalwinnie and insisted on giving Hubby a few glasses of it. Meanwhile, Hubby was totally happy. Meat pizza for dinner, a good cigar, an expensive scotch. What more could he want? Have you ever heard the expression beer then liquor, never sicker?
He smoked the cigar until it was too small to hold. But my dad told him he couldn't waste the best part, so he convinced Hubby to put the butt end of the cigar on a toothpick and walk around smoking it like a cocktail weenie on a stick. He was quite the rube, I'm sure. But he was happy.
He was happy that is, until he came home. He walked in the door and turned green. He then proceeded to throw up, several times. He went straight to sleep, only waking up to vomit again. He was still vomiting the next morning. Still green, too. But he never smoked again.
The bar where this happened closed down a few years ago, but if you are from the Lane Ave area of Columbus, you very well may have heard the story because for the rest of the time my dad went into the bar, they always mentioned his son-in-law with the cocktail weenie cigar. Yes, that's my hubby!