sinuhexavier
Explorer
Kcwyo-
Thanks for the compliments, the Plateau is indeed an amazing place.
I'm not sure what sage cigs are exactly... Those were Djarum's and this is teh story of how I came to have them...
In the past leaving Los Angeles I would always fill up before I left and fill my tank again in Victorville, because the gas prices go through the roof in Barstow and Baker. This time heading out I made a quick stop in Riverside to see Andrew and filled up there. With the wind at my back I actually made it all the way to the Moapa Indian Rez. It's the spot on the 15 between Mesquite and Vegas that sells fireworks, booze and cigs...
Indian Rez means no tax on gas, liquor, fireworks or cigs... So, there I am heading into Utah being the debaucherous soul that I am, knowing that I must stock up on all of these sinful products even if I don't smoke! It seemed like the American thing to do. There I am a portrait of overindulgence, boxes of patron under the arms, hands holding the beer... Head cocked to the side standing in front of a 16ft tower of tobacco, a non-smoker about to take the plunge. This is after all a vacation, I thought I may even need to pick up some brown liquor since the wife was unable to join me... Winston, Pall Mall, Kool, Marlboro, Big Chief, Kingsley, Montclair,Lucky Strike the list goes on. This was the Costco of tobacco, no single packs strictly cartons.
"I don't think you want the absolute cheapest." I overhear a sales clerk tell a blond lady with flammable hair wearing a sleeveless, acid washed purple t-shirt with a dark wolf howling at her jowels emblazoned with dream catchers. This was the world I was in just feet from I-15. I had to escape this strange vortex that has occurred not 100 miles from the Nevada nuclear testing grounds.
But now I had a helper. Someone guiding me to the taste that I liked. I couldn't admit I really didn't smoke, that I only smoked when it was convenient or a matter of social adaptability. He asked me about flavors, like cigarettes had a bouquet similar to wine. I tried answering in oblique terms hoping to shake him off my tail, make him lose interest in this fool that knows nothing. Normally that would work in my natural environment of Los Angeles... Just another kook. But I was out in the desert and this mans duty was to help me find the perfect blend of tobacco.
There they were looking fancy in there slim box with burgundy and brown wrapping around a nice white base. Djarum. I grabbed a pack and shot for the checkout... Who knows how much time had already been wasted.
Thanks for the compliments, the Plateau is indeed an amazing place.
I'm not sure what sage cigs are exactly... Those were Djarum's and this is teh story of how I came to have them...
In the past leaving Los Angeles I would always fill up before I left and fill my tank again in Victorville, because the gas prices go through the roof in Barstow and Baker. This time heading out I made a quick stop in Riverside to see Andrew and filled up there. With the wind at my back I actually made it all the way to the Moapa Indian Rez. It's the spot on the 15 between Mesquite and Vegas that sells fireworks, booze and cigs...
Indian Rez means no tax on gas, liquor, fireworks or cigs... So, there I am heading into Utah being the debaucherous soul that I am, knowing that I must stock up on all of these sinful products even if I don't smoke! It seemed like the American thing to do. There I am a portrait of overindulgence, boxes of patron under the arms, hands holding the beer... Head cocked to the side standing in front of a 16ft tower of tobacco, a non-smoker about to take the plunge. This is after all a vacation, I thought I may even need to pick up some brown liquor since the wife was unable to join me... Winston, Pall Mall, Kool, Marlboro, Big Chief, Kingsley, Montclair,Lucky Strike the list goes on. This was the Costco of tobacco, no single packs strictly cartons.
"I don't think you want the absolute cheapest." I overhear a sales clerk tell a blond lady with flammable hair wearing a sleeveless, acid washed purple t-shirt with a dark wolf howling at her jowels emblazoned with dream catchers. This was the world I was in just feet from I-15. I had to escape this strange vortex that has occurred not 100 miles from the Nevada nuclear testing grounds.
But now I had a helper. Someone guiding me to the taste that I liked. I couldn't admit I really didn't smoke, that I only smoked when it was convenient or a matter of social adaptability. He asked me about flavors, like cigarettes had a bouquet similar to wine. I tried answering in oblique terms hoping to shake him off my tail, make him lose interest in this fool that knows nothing. Normally that would work in my natural environment of Los Angeles... Just another kook. But I was out in the desert and this mans duty was to help me find the perfect blend of tobacco.
There they were looking fancy in there slim box with burgundy and brown wrapping around a nice white base. Djarum. I grabbed a pack and shot for the checkout... Who knows how much time had already been wasted.
