By James Johnson

I'm sitting in a crowded restaurant, enjoying a tasty meal with my Chinese family. The atmosphere is hot and loud-exactly the type of environment that attracts the interest of those closest to me-and one I have learned to get used to, over time. One thing I can't get used to, and never will--the clouds of cigarette smoke that fill the air and our lungs with every grudging, indrawn breath.

It used to be the same for me in my home area in the United States. Well, in regards to the clouds of smoke, anyway. The noise is definitely a relatively new experience.

Now, however, the overwhelming evidence of smoking's many dangers has prompted my home state to ban the noxious habit in public establishments. Hotels, restaurants and even bars are finally, blissfully, smoke-free. I won't deny this has left many smokers disgruntled. They seem to think that everyone else's health is a small price to pay for their momentary pleasure. Or, as some have put it, "If you don't like it, you are free to stay at home!"

Back to the present. I glance around the room, and smiling diners are happily blowing smoke into the faces of their friends and families. Can they really be oblivious to the damage they are causing, or is it merely indifference? My wife--who loathes the practice at least as much as I--says that it's at the least socially acceptable and at worst considered downright cool to inundate the surrounding environment with clouds of health-grinding chemicals.

Living in an industrial city and dealing with air pollutants are necessary facts of our existence. This seeming desire of certain people to reproduce the toxic effects, not to mention the smell, of the big factories wherever they go is inscrutable to me.

For us, it's become too much. We confer briefly with Ba and Ma, who nod in agreement. Standing up, we call out maidan (pay the bill), and leave. Once outside, we both agree that we won't return to that particular restaurant again. The ventilation is too poor, the area too closed in, and it offers a dearth of private rooms.

Later that night, I ask my wife why her parents are so willing to put up with it. She says that they feel it's simply unavoidable and therefore must be endured. They tell her that she, too, must learn to accept it. They ask her what she will do if she gets a job where the office is filled with smoke? What if she needs to take a taxi? Many drivers smoke (outside of Beijing, where the practice was recently outlawed), seemingly unaware of the depths of their discourtesy. To them, as to my wife's parents, it's just a part of modern Chinese life.

A similar attitude pervaded the United States in the past. And if China is now where America used to be, then it stands to reason it may very well be heading for the same painful wake-up call. Ask your western colleagues if they know anyone who has died a smoking-related death. Chances are you won't like what you hear.

I myself can regale you with a list that can but barely be confined to my 10 fingers--friends, relatives, neighbors, some of them surprisingly young. And I'm only in my early thirties. I guarantee that I am not alone. One study says that approximately one of every five deaths in the United States is smoking related. And even those who do not succumb to the risk of cancer, lung disease or a heart attack must still face the ubiquitous consequences of aging fast and an overall decreased lifespan.

Don't make the mistake of assuming that only western studies make such claims. Over the last few years, Hong Kong has increasingly gotten into the act with not only studies but aggressive anti-smoking campaigns after a group of researchers found that approximately one in three young men will most likely die from the risky vice in the coming few decades. Do you still think smoking is cool?

The next time you graciously offer your guest a smoke, or light one up in front of family or friends, ask yourself this: Is encouraging the decline of their health a proper display of hospitality, respect or love by any measure?

If you think the answer is yes, then all I can say is this: When someone close to you loses their life to one of the many associated risks, remember that you share some responsibility for their demise. If you play with smoke, you're playing with fire. And sooner or later, you're going to get burned.

The author is an American currently living in Liaoning Province.

(Beijing Review January 9, 2008)