I like to think of myself as a pretty tolerant person, but some of my friends *may* have known me to be a little pissy about smoking. I’ll be honest – I don’t really “get” smoking, and I definitely don’t like it. I’ve celebrated when friends have quit and berated them for backsliding. Having never let a cigarette past my lips, I know these actions make me a bit of a priss and totally devoid of perspective.

Luckily, I haven’t had to think about it too often. I lived in California – Berkeley to be exact – and thanks to California’s liberal/draconian laws, I never had to deal with smokers in bars or restaurants. I vaguely remember in elementary school, going out to dinner with an asthmatic and having to sit at the far edge of the non-smoking section to make sure no wisp of nicotine-laden smoke crossed her nostrils. Secure in my dominance in this non-smoking world, I would even give dirty looks (and, I admit it, occasionally an exaggerated cough) when I passed by someone who had lit up.

This bliss ended about six weeks ago, when my boyfriend and I left Berkeley for Washington, DC. Spending the first two nights in Reno, we attributed the smoking casinos to the fact that they were, in fact, casinos. It was in a small Pizza Hut in Nebraska that I first realized what I was getting myself into: “smoking or non-smoking?” the perky waitress asked, and I stared in confusion until it hit me that in other places, people can smoke while they wait for their food. Uh oh, I thought, at least it won’t be like Europe.

And while DC has been hot and muggy this summer (more mild than usual!), there is no dense fog of cigarette smoke covering the city. I can still usually breathe without complaint, and have read that only 20.8% of the population smokes, which is probably similar to that of my native Bay Area. However, they do seem to enjoy smoking in those hangouts that most people outside of California and New York City (now) would consider smokers’ havens: bars, dark restaurants, anywhere with outdoor seating. I was astonished the other day when, sitting in a painfully trendy coffeehouse/bar in Adams Morgan, the three people at the table next to us proceeded to light up and smoke of procession of variously flavored cigarettes, ranging from foul to patchouli.

I had been cheered weeks earlier when I heard about an organization called Smokefree DC and now thought that maybe I should get involved, joining co-founder Mike Tacelosky, another uprooted Californian. After the Adams Morgan bar incident, I checked out the group’s website: www.smokefreedc.org. Based on the uproar I’ve seen in The New York Times and The New Yorker, I figured that a group specializing in smoke-free agitating would be pretty controversial. Smokers and libertarians rally with cries of Big Brother and the ghetto-ization of smoking. Even I haven’t figured out a way to definitely win an argument with the claim that my right to not breathe second-hand smoke trumps a smoker’s right to inhale carcinogens wherever he or she pleases. Apparently Smokefree DC founders Tacelosky and Angela Bradbury anticipated resistance as well; their website’s mission statement skirts the rights of non-smoking patrons, like me, and focuses on bar and restaurant employees. “No worker should have to breathe smoke on the job,” the site asserts. “We support 100% smokefree environments for all workplaces, including restaurants and bars.” It’s certainly a less selfish way of thinking about it. I can always skip Clyde’s steakhouse in favor of McDonalds (a major force on the organization’s list of smoke-free establishments), but the hostess or bartender whose job prospects have shrunk in today’s booming economy cannot.

Smokefree DC’s plan is to build a grassroots support for smoke-free businesses, relying on the restaurants and bars to voluntarily ban smoking within their walls. Their site maintains an extensive list of such establishments in the various neighborhoods of the District. It was disappointing to find that corporate giants dominate the list, as McDonalds and its Mexican offspring Chipotle, along with Subway and Starbucks make up 60 of 196 listings. And if I had added Burger King and Wendy’s to my count, the ratio would have been even more lopsided. Smokefree DC encourages its supporters to patronize the establishments on the list, and to let owners and managers know what a difference their smoke-free decision has made. Likewise, a smoke-free advocate should encourage favorite restaurants and bars to consider going smoke-free, possibly deciding to skip out on the ones that continue to set out ashtrays. Eventually, it seems, the financial impact from the loss of non-smokers would counterbalance the prevailing wisdom that going smoke-free would cause smoking patrons to go elsewhere where they can drink and smoke in peace.

But really, how much smoke are we talking about? As I’ve mentioned, I’m hyperaware of smokers, and so note every in-restaurant smoker with a beleaguered sigh. However, a friend from Florida told me that in his view, there just isn’t that much smoking in DC. “In a bar there’ll only be one person smoking,” and compared to many other cities, that’s not much. In fact, this conversation took place in a tiny club, with handwritten “No Smoking” signs dotting the walls. Though probably just a safety issue, as the crowd must have violated several fire codes, it didn’t seem to trouble the club’s patrons. Smokers enjoyed their cigarettes out on the sidewalk, and even then only about half of the outdoor crowd had lit up.

Does the District’s small smoking population make the city ripe for smoke-free legislation, the next logical step in smoke-free activism? Or is the amount of smoking so small as to make a smoking ban seem preposterous and draconian? Neighboring Montgomery County, Maryland, recently banned smoking in area restaurants and bars, and outcomes there may affect the prevailing view in the capital. Until then, I plan on checking out Smokefree DC’s restaurant list, but will like continue to rely on my time-honored method: glaring at those who choose to light up around me.