Public pipe smoking has always seemed like a misguided pretension to me, one that’s especially odd in a younger man. A pipe-smoker in his twenties may as well stand on a corner shouting, “Look at me everyone. Observe my young yet thought-worn brow. I thoroughly enjoy Yeats!”
That said, yesterday I saw a guy in his early twenties parking his motorcycle. He removed his helmet, reached into his bag, and pulled out a pipe. Leaning against the bike, he packed and lit the pipe, and took a few puffs. Only then did he finish parking the motorcycle, and head inside with the pipe anchored in his jaw. So I was forced to wonder about his deal for a while. Which, I suppose, was the point.