Smokers Beware

So I'm starring in Cotton Patch Gospel at Custom Made Theatre Company in SF. Literally, starring. That's what it says in the program. That's nice. I like it. I like working for Custom Made, they're fun people and they would pay me more if they could. This I know. But I'm not writing about the company or the production (which, if you're reading this before 12/19/2009, you should come see). I'm writing about the crazy bitch who chased my friend away.

Here's how I experienced it: after the show, I'm outside sipping some yummy wine and chatting with Sam and his dad. Sam tells me about this woman who accosted him in front of the church (the theatre is in a space at Trinity Episcopal in San Francisco), telling him that his smoke was making her eye burn because it was under her contact lens. So we're all chuckling about it when this chick in pink comes out of the theatre and darts past Sam, headed for the street. Well, we had no idea that the reason she was headed for the street was that she thought the smoke she smelled was coming from out there. So the next thing we know, she's right next to us, harassing Sam again.

It was funny in the beginning. First it's because of her eye. And she's telling me she loved my performance, and she hopes that her constantly rubbing her eye didn't distract me, but the smoke just burned. So I said, "No, it would take more than you rubbing your eye to distract me." I guess this wasn't enough, because she turns to Sam again with, "Do you see how you're making it worse for everyone by smoking?"

Now she has a liver disease, and she's going to be in pain for hours because of the smoke. Which she's standing in. To tell Sam about the smoke and how much pain it's going to cause her.

Sam was polite and told her that she could have just asked nicely instead of demanding that he stop smoking; here's where I got distracted, because someone came up to talk to me then, and I saw Sam and his dad head out to the street but I guessed they'd be back, and that he was just going out there to finish his cigarette in peace. Next thing I see is the crazy bitch in pink heading back into the theatre, and coming out again with Leah Abrams -- who, along with Brian Katz, runs Custom Made --, and she's got Armando Fox in tow. These are both very nice people. I'm not worried.

So from what I understand the crazy bitch was demanding that Leah exile Sam from the premises. Leah and Armando both know who Sam's dad is. They wouldn't exile Sam for smoking to begin with, and now this crazy is fucking it all up for everyone.

Next thing I know, Sam and his dad are gone; I go out to the street to see if they're still there and I see the crazy in pink ranting to her friend about how, "It's illegal, it's been banned!" Only later did I hear that her friend was extremely embarrassed by the whole thing.

Here's the thing, ladies and gents: I'm not a smoker of cigarettes. I will puff on a cigar or a pipe maybe once or twice a year, and I've been known to enjoy herbology -- though I prefer baked goods because I have some issues with my lungs that need no smoke inhalation. But I have no problem with Sam standing outside the theatre and having a cigarette. I think it's rude and unkind to chase a stranger out of a social situation because of a political agenda. I am willing to bet cash moneys that that twat does not have a liver disease and, frankly, I can't wait to see her again and rake her over the coals. Not just because of my discomfort with her behavior, and not just because Pat Craig was there to review the show, and not just because she chased my friends away. Someone needs to tell her that there is a better way to get people to stop smoking. And someone needs to tell her loudly and in no uncertain terms, hopefully in a public place. If this could involve pouring paint on her or arranging for chimps to aim poo at her face, so much the better.

© 2009, Edward Hightower. All Rights Reserved.