“Some people say you should pay your respects first. I like that idea.” Saying this, my friend José smells his Romeo y Julieta cigar and invites me do to the same with my Cohiba. There is something a bit theatrical about the gesture, but it goes well with our accents. Our daily struggles with the English language have made us both sound more dramatic than we really are.
I’ve avoided cigars until now, perhaps because of the wrong associations with the nouveau riche. Or because I felt I was too young. Or maybe I was simply waiting for a tempting enough invitation. José wooed me for a few months before I agreed to give it a try. He texted me about each of his new acquisitions as if he was telling me about his (fictional) many mistresses. He spoke about his humidor with the pride that only a Spaniard can talk about an inanimate object. Eventually, the technical geek in me fell for the cheap humidor talk.
