I used to get super nostalgic whenever I inhaled secondhand smoke. For whatever reason, the memory and taste of Paris would come to my lips any time I got the faintest whiff or hint of a cigarette… I am afraid all the romance has now been flushed away… or smoked out of my system… I can’t seem to walk or sit or stand anywhere in all of Italy without someone kindly sharing his or her cigarette or cigar. It seems to be mandatory for all ages, all sexes, all places… everyone has to smoke… and I must be wearing a giant dunce cap with a neon sign arrow pointing down at me, calling for all smokers to fill my air up with their generous smoke…

Which is why it has become necessary that I create two important inventions… a perfect remedy for all future travels, and perhaps my ticket out of the ghetto… Ladies and gentlemen, I give you… “The Stealth Wind” and “The Anti-Whiffer”…

THE STEALTH WIND
The Stealth Wind is inspired by, and pays tribute to, the flower-lapel-squirter… one of the greatest beloved treasure gags known to all circus clowns since the beginning of time. But instead of squirting water from the lapel or handkerchief pocket of your jacket, you attach the flower to the lower back side of your coat, and squirt a mist of rotten egg scent. Anytime an uninvited smoker insists on lighting up, simply turn your back on him or her, and re-claim your air space with a couple misty squirts.

THE ANTI-WHIFFER
The Anti-Whiffer is a little more subtle and less invasive… it is a miniature fan in a ring. You can wear it on either hand, any finger. Once the ring is turned on, hold your hand with the ring up to your mouth (like you would cover your mouth before sneezing) and let the ring blow all air away from your nose and mouth area. This is also an anti-germ device, so you could walk around with the ring turned on all the time, pretend to be scratching the bridge of your nose, fake a cough, or hold your fingertips to your lips as if you’re having a genius brainstorm or deep, contemplative thought… and let The Anti-Whiffer do the rest…

I was about 7 or 8 years old when someone (I can’t remember who) told me an amazing fact… about how people in Italy, if they were upset with another person, would tell off that person or express disdain or dissatisfaction using a simple hand-arm gesture. I think it took several, repeated, step-by-step demonstrations, but I was fascinated and intrigued. A strange foreign people in a strange foreign land, making strange foreign hand signals… I was giddy and excited! I thought I had learned some kind of elite, secret code or magical language… naturally, I HAD to try it out…

Later, I was playing alone in our open, empty carless garage, when I spotted Paul Ghiacketti, a neighbor kid, walking towards our end of the street. He was 5 or 6 years older – which is a giant lifetime and huge generation gap to a kid… and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to try out this secret, mysterious language.

I straightened my arm… cocked and loaded it like a giant catapult… and like a sniper assassin, waited for the perfect moment when he would appear directly in front of the driveway.

“Hey, P-a-a-a-a-u-u-u-l-l-l!!”
He turned, I clinched my right fist, carefully reached over with my left hand and grabbed the inside area of my right arm’s elbow, and just like I had learned, released the catapult and swung my fist toward me with the conviction and flair of a true Italian.

He stopped. We both stared at each other for a few seconds… long enough to make me wonder if I had done it correctly. Or maybe it was indeed so secret he had no idea what I was trying…

Suddenly, without saying a word, he came bolting at me at breakneck speed like a crazed banshee, tackled me to the ground, pinned me on my back, and began whipping the tar out of me.

In between the flurry of punches, (and over my tears) he explained the true definition of this Italian gesture and how I should never do it ever again.

I never did it again.