I’ve carried the following in my wallet on a business card sized piece of cardboard. It’s damn near got me into a few fights in bars in the past, although I find that if it’s done with humour – making sure everyone in the circle gets to see it by passing it to someone other than the offender first – it normally draws a few laughs while getting the message across.
Cigarette smoke is the residue of your pleasure. It permeates the air and putrefies my hair and clothes, not to mention my lungs. This takes place without my consent. I have a pleasure also; I like a beer now and again. The residue from my pleasure is urine. With the greatest respect, wouldn’t you be just a little annoyed if I stood on a chair and pissed all over your clothes?
I suffered captains who smoked, usually getting out of my seat and staying the forward galley whenever they lit up. However, I didn’t have the
cojones of one colleague who unstrapped and stepped from his seat at 15,000’ on descent into Heathrow when his heavily addicted captain lit up. When the startled captain asked what he was doing, he told him he had the choice –do without the ciggie or continuing the approach and landing on his own.
In the days when smoking was still allowed, absolutely no smoking on MY flight deck was one of the sweeter points of being a captain. Many of my FOs went down the back to indulge their habit, stinking of smoke when they returned.