Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

Yesterday I was at a conference focused on tobacco addiction for people in recovery. Toward the end of the day I went to a session on the biology of addiction and was riveted by both the topic and the speaker. That's when the fire alarm went off in the hotel. Sirens wailed, strobe lights flashed, and people grabbed their bags and notebooks and ran for the door.

Since it was so close to 4pm this interruption clearly signaled the end of the conference. As people pushed past me in the corridor I was struck with indecision - should I get the hell out of dodge as fast as my legs would carry me or was there time to duck into the bathroom before hitting the road for the two-hour car ride home? In the end I ducked into the bathroom, where I ran into a colleague. Above the din of the pre-recorded evacuation message she glanced over at me and said, "We're awfully blasé about a fire alarm. I think that's a striking commentary on the past half decade of terrorism and threat in our society and the world."

I smiled at her, but shook my head. "I just really had to pee."