“What is smirting?” asks a good looking young hippie to my left, slowly tucking a stray, blonde dred lock behind his ear and then taking a long drag from his Camel Light. “I just read about it–apparently it’s a combination of smoking and flirting that started in countries where smoking has been banned in bars,” a tall, willowy girl answers.
“Oh,” says the guy. “So do you want to smirt?”
“Sure,” she answers, laughing at the funny term and his adorable grin.
It’s November 2007, six years after the first law in Israel prohibiting smoking in public places was passed but never enforced. Last week, a new law went into effect regarding smoking in public places. And this time, people are actually obeying the orders. In a country where the accepted m.o. is the following–do whatever you want until someone tells you not to–it’s actually surprising to see people doing what they are told and going outside of bars, restaurants, shopping malls, cinemas, concert venues and clubs to smoke. As soon as the law was passed in New York and Americans took to curbside inhaling, we knew it was only a matter of time until Europe followed suit. But Israel? That one really surprised us. The enforcement of the new law happened as quickly as shiny new gyms suddenly popped up on every corner, nine new volleyball nets and night-time spotlights (funded by the municipality) went up on Gordon beach, and health food stores miraculously appeared every few blocks. But unlike many popular things that seem to spread like wildfire here, not very many people in Tel Aviv seem thrilled by the new law.
Outside one of Tel Aviv’s oldest concert venues, The Barbie, a gaggle of smokers is debating the new law and the rampant rumors that accompany it.
“It’s fascist,” says one guy to his girlfriend after she points out that, on a positive note, the new rules may make it easier to quit smoking. Another guy criticizes the expense of the ticket. “It’s a $125 fine if an inspector catches you smoking in an illegal place now, and I heard it’s over $1,000 if a place lets people smoke inside. That’s a ridiculous amount.”
But the fact remains that until a law was passed (and enforced) hitting people where it really hurts– in their wallets– no one paid a lick of attention to the ban on smoking in public places. And the smoke can get so thick in Tel Aviv bars you could cut it with a knife. So even if you smoke, going out in the city means coming home inevitably smelling like an ashtray that has never, ever been emptied. After a recent, three-month stint in the lovely city of San Francisco where even smoking outside can incur the wrath of fellow passer bys, we were not looking forward to the smoke-filled nights in Israel.
Nevertheless, it was so hard to believe that people would actually follow the rules here that we had to peek inside The Barbie and see it with our own eyes to believe it. “Not an ashtray in sight,” says my husband after checking out the tables and bar. “Amazing.” The only smoke in the room emanated from an odorless fog machine somewhere behind the stage.
As Prem Joshua and his band of world-music musicians took the stage, we took appreciate whiffs of the clean air and settled into our cushions. “I wonder how long it will last,” said my husband. “Probably about as long as the fines,” I answered. And although we aren’t holding our breath with high expectations, it’s nice to know that if we want to, it’s actually possible to breathe normally now–even out on the town at night.