Hope Rides Alone

Just got back from a dinner with the inhabitants and hangers-on of Casa de Pre-Wedding de Alabama. It was through that dinner that a new circle of hell was discovered.
First, people were smoking. At the table. Now, no one in my family (until now) smokes. My home state has rather nice smoking laws that make it possible to hang about with crowds of people without coughing to death.
I wheezed. I gasped. I choked. I tried desperately not to sound like a whiner, but I was sorely tested. 
Then food came. The other person of my own age who shares my name (let's call her ... Susan) and I braved the burned grilled cheeses, questionable fries, and drowned broccoli the only things availible to vegetarians. I was alternately gasping for air and choking down the food. Some remarks were made, I flared up. I made silent prays to God, Buddha, Shiva, Apollo, and Zues, but not in that order (or in any order, I didn't want to get SMITED on top of everything.)
Someone kindly drove Susan and I back to Casa de Pre-Wedding de Alabama. The horde just recently returned.
My lungs felt shriveled in that place.
I hope I don't sound like I'm complaining, but, seriously, A NEW CIRCLE OF HELL.

On a lighter note, my bed here consists of a large chair and two cushy footrests. Just thought I'd put that out there ...