An allergy-prone friend is singing the praises of the antihistamine Zyrtec. Without it, he said, his eyes would be itchy and irritated and he'd be sneezing constantly at this time of the year, when the multiflora rose is in bloom. Knock on wood, I'm not allergic, but I'm certainly aware of the multiflora rose anyway: it leaves a coating of yellow pollen all over the place, including my deck, the windowsills, and inside and outside my car. I keep a Swiffer cloth in the car to wipe off the dashboard every day.
I find the multiflora rose scent bordering on cloying, but it was ambrosial compared to the thick cigarette smoke that filled a Honey Brook bar where I saw a friend's band perform on Friday night. As soon as we walked in the door my friends and I were struck by the overpowering smell and thought: Wait a minute! Isn't smoking in bars supposed to be illegal? Apparently not: the large ashtrays on the bar were heaped with butts, and one of the rules posted next to the three coin-operated pool tables was "No smoking over the table." ("No moving the tables" was another one; I can only imagine what misadventure led to that rule being established.)
As we were leaving, we saw one young woman standing outside lighting up. "I guess it's too smoky for her inside," quipped a friend.
As soon as I got home I dumped my clothes in the washing machine. I also checked the Pennsylvania Department of Health's website and found that, sure enough, the place has an approved exemption from the state's "Clean Indoor Air Act."
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