Published Monday July 14, 2003 David Grimes: With smokers now banished, which patrons will be targeted? BY DAVID GRIMES
NEW YORK TIMES NEWS SERVICE

SARASOTA, Fla. - Smoking is no longer allowed in Florida restaurants and most bars, and that is going to take some getting used to.

Nonsmokers have long had a confrontational relationship with those addicted to the evil weed, but now that the war has been won by the forces of goodness and light, we may find that a certain something is missing from our lives.

As a former smoker, I am, of course, one of the most militant, obnoxious, insufferable anti-smoking zealots this side of the surgeon general. The favorite line of people like me is: "If I can quit, so can you," making it sound as if giving up cigarettes is as easy as giving up jabbing yourself in the knee with a fork, when, in reality, we quit and failed about 18 times and often were so desperate for a cigarette that we considered retrieving butts from urinals if we thought we could pick the chewing gum off.

And we don't bother to mention the hell we put our families through because living with a person who is going through the throes of nicotine withdrawal is like living with a lion that is going through zebra withdrawal.

Nor do we bother to mention that we compensated for the nicotine loss by eating everything in sight until we acquired the sleek lines one normally associates with captive manatees. (See the picture of me near the beginning of this column.)

So there was this whole complicated dynamic between smokers and nonsmokers that developed over the years, and now, suddenly, it's gone.

Dining out will not be the same without the acrid aroma of a Marlboro Light wafting over the table just as I'm lifting that first succulent forkful of tuna casserole to my mouth. Smoker/nonsmoker custom dictates at this point that I fan the air in front of my nose and scowl as if someone had just dumped a bucket of herring entrails on top of my Caesar salad. That is the smoker's cue to roll his eyes as you might if a cop pulls you over for exceeding the speed limit by a mere 20 mph.

That completes the little morality play, and everybody can go back to enjoying his or her dinner.

But with smokers now banished to the outdoor steam bath that passes for air this time of year in Florida, the dining experience is going to be far less stimulating.

Since most of the dinner conversations I had with my wife consisted of making unkind remarks about the guy three tables down who just stubbed out his Salem in his mashed potatoes, we will have to learn to explore other, more genteel topics, like how much blood we will have to sell to pay for our son's college education.

Clearly, we will have to find another class of people to demonize, or it won't be long before people get so relaxed and comfortable in restaurants that they consider leaving more than a $1 tip for a $30 meal.

People who have more than one glass of wine with dinner are easy targets, and we might consider relegating them to that part of the restaurant that overlooks the Dumpster. People who bring small, energetic children into restaurants should also be ostracized in some way, perhaps by making them eat in their car.

Just because we've succeeded in kicking smokers out of restaurants doesn't mean we have to stop there.

The elderly, the young and those who insist on asking for a lemon wedge in their ice water are all potential targets for exclusion.

When it's over, and everybody has been banned from eating in a restaurant, maybe we can all meet out on the sidewalk and share a cigarette, just for old times' sake. Without the chewing gum, of course.