Scene:  JFK airport.  Mike steps outside and lights up a cigarette.  He inhales. He’s approached by a charming man in his late twenties.

Charming Man:  Can I bum a cigarette?

Mike:  Sorry, last one. 

Mike Shakes the empty cigarette pack and tosses it in the trash for emphasis.  The Charming Man approaches an airport employee wearing dark coveralls and a Yankees cap.  He asks for a cigarette from him and is politely rebuffed.  The airport employee steps closer to Mike.

Airport Employee:  Welcome to New York, right?

Mike: Right.

Airport Employee:  You from here?

Mike:  I live here.

Airport Employee:  Ten bucks a pack.  I’m not handin’ that shit out.  When I first started smoking they were five bucks a pack.  Watched the price climb higher and higher.  I go down to Puerto Rico.  Twenty bucks a carton.  Me and my buddies.  Bring ‘em back. 

Mike:  Really?  That’s a deal.  How many cartons can you, are you allowed to bring back?

Airport Employee: Six.  I think.  Actually, it’s my buddy that goes.  I haven’t gone yet.

Mike:  Ah.

Airport Employee:  It depends what you smoke.  I smoke Newports.  They taste a little funny but at that price…

Mike:  Who can complain, right?

Airport Employee:  There’s one airport, I can’t remember if it’s North Carolina or what, you can smoke in the terminal. They got a place set up.

Mike (smiling):  Certainly not around here, not anymore.

Airport Employee:  It’s Bloomberg’s fault and that other guy, whassisname?  I fuckin’ hate those motherfuckers.

Mike:  Well.  He stubs out his cigarette.  Thanks for the tip.  If I’m ever in Puerto Rico I know what I’m buying.  He turns to leave.

Airport Employee:  And white Hennessy.

Mike:  White Hennessy?

Airport Employee:  Yeah. They don’t have it anywhere in the States but they got it there.

Mike:  Okay, if I get down there I’ll keep an eye out…

The sentence trails off as Mike enters re-enters the glass doors.

FIN