Mine was in Israel.
On a beach near where my cousin then lived. I was 11 and anti-smoking, but she was 16, had pink hair and was cool. She still took the time to fish, catch crabs with little cuz and offered me tokes on her marlboro lights.

I coughed, spluttered and went back to London even more anti-smoking than I was when I left.

Five years later and I go back for her brother's wedding. She met me at the airport, I produced my pouch of golden virginia and we went outside to smoke. Rolling papers were a rare commodity it Israel, as they may have led to the naughty marijuana smoking, so my cousin had never had a roll-up.

Oh, such crazy times. My hair may have been longer than hers, but it wasn't pink, otherwise the circle would have been perfectly completed. My cousin coughed and spluttered on her first toke, just like I did.

I don't smoke now, not cigarettes. Nasty things.

I know, I know. We weren't on a beach either, we were in the airport. I said that earlier.
(MrTeapot hasn't played with himself since, Fri 21 Mar 2008, 2:27, Reply)