Scofflaws Burn With Anger When a Smoke Detector Sounds Off

Big Ed slipped into the bar and took his usual seat in the corner, next to the fern, from which he could survey everything. He slipped the doorman his usual fiver, although it had been years since he remembered exactly why he kept doing that.

From across the room, Big Ed’s favorite waitress, Mitzi, spotted him, and they exchanged meaningful glances. She mouthed “The usual?” and Big Ed nodded. Before you could say, Shirley Temple, the waitress brought one over and murmured, “I’ll start your tab.”

“Feel free to,” Big Ed said, “but I won’t be doing much drinking.”

Mitzi looked at him quizzically. She hadn’t seen him this serious since he brought in that pack of Cub Scouts two years ago to see how many different liqueurs they could identify. What a disaster that turned out to be.

“What’s up?” she said.

“It’s the first no-smoking weekend for California bars,” Big Ed said, his jaw clenched. “You know me, the law’s the law. I’m just here to make sure people obey it.”

“You’re not armed, are you?” Mitzi said.

“Nope,” Big Ed replied.

Mitzi vamoosed, and Big Ed began looking around. He’d been coming to bars since he was old enough to vote and sort of felt as if they were his home away from home. One year, he spent so much time in them he felt as if his home was his home away from home, but those days were long gone. Now, a bar was a place he went to hear some music, unwind from the workweek and get the latest pronouncements from people who didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.

Big Ed counted about 25 people in the bar. At least five were smoking, in clear violation of California law. He felt the temperature on the back of his neck start to rise. Four of the five smokers sported clearly visible tattoos on their biceps, so Big Ed decided to start with the one who was unmarked. She was a fresh-faced woman whom he guessed to be 25, and if she hadn’t been smoking, Big Ed thought she might have been someone who sang in a church choir.

Seated just a few feet away, Big Ed sidled over to her. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t know if you’re aware of the fact, but it’s now illegal to smoke in bars. I’d like you to put that cigarette out.”

“That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard,” she said. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“I’m deadly serious,” Big Ed said. “Smoking is a known carcinogen and inhaling secondhand smoke has also been linked to health problems. Perhaps you’ve noticed that it’s illegal to smoke in other enclosed places, like restaurants and airplanes.”

“What are you, the sheriff or something?” she said. Big Ed remained silent, secretly flattered by the thought.

“Well, OK, if it’s the law,” she said, dousing her cigarette in a water glass. “I’ve been meaning to quit, anyway.”

“No better time than when it’s illegal,” Big Ed said. “Thanks for making for a better California.”

Buoyed by his initial success, Big Ed went back to his table. From here, though, it was only going to get rougher. His next targets were two men who he thought might be brothers because both had the same oddly angular shape to their heads. One had a tattoo of a fist on his biceps; the other the tattoo of biceps on his fist, which he kept permanently clinched.

“Hey, fellas,” Big Ed said, extending a hand that neither acknowledged. “As you may know, the California Legislature passed a law forbidding smoking in bars like this, and I’m going to have to ask you to extinguish your cigarettes as quickly as possible.”

The two men looked at Big Ed as if he were gum on the bottom of their shoes. One of them took his cigarette, which Big Ed believed to be a Winston, and snuffed it against Big Ed’s forehead. “How’s that, bub?” he said.

Before Big Ed could respond, the other man took his cigarette and extinguished it against Big Ed’s lips, causing him to yelp and, moments later, blister badly.

“That’s how we feel about your new state law,” the grim brothers said. “I suppose the next thing they’ll say is that we have to bring our own glasses from home if we want to drink.”

“I don’t think they’ll go that far,” Big Ed said, in obvious pain. “They’re just trying to improve people’s health.”

“Your health ain’t gonna improve if you go around telling people to put out their cigarettes,” one of the men said. “You’re just lucky we’re law-abiding citizens.”

About then, Mitzi came over. “Big Ed, why don’t you let us handle this?” she said. “We’re the experts here.”

Big Ed shrugged and returned to his seat. He had a dark feeling that this new no-smoking law was going to cause lots of problems. He pictured fistfights, gunfights, broken cue-stick fights and, in general, bad barroom karma. He feared the new law might turn neighbor against neighbor, drunk against drunk.

He headed for the door, turning up his collar to ward off the nighttime chill.

“See you next time,” the doorman said.

“Maybe,” Big Ed said. “Maybe not.”

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821, by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail at dana.parsons@latimes.com