When I arrived at the bus shelter today, there was a grown man sitting inside with his wool cap and winter jacket and jogging pants on, smoking a Number 7. There were four or five people standing outside, froze. I went into the shelter, gestured towards the no smoking sign and said, "I don't think you're supposed to smoke in here".

He laughed. No one ever said anything. Not bothering anyone.

"Well, I'm saying something, and you're bothering me."

He rose with a little huff and went and stood just outside the door. Mission accomplished. Two women and an elderly gentleman tucked themselves inside. One of the women commented that she was glad somebody said something, because non-smokers shouldn't have to suffer in the cold because of smokers.

How terrible to be smoking in the bus shelter.

"Well, he's gone outside now." There is no longer a problem, missus. All I had to do was ask.

I raised my eyebrow at her and explained that I used to be a smoker. She confessed the same. I raised my eyebrow some more.

Outside, the man with the cigarette gave a light to another smoker before taking one last quick draw and sitting back down inside on the bench.

I tries to quit, he said. Three months one time.

"Can't be three months! Got to be forever! You'll do it when you really want to. I was addicted! Couldn't have one, I'd want a carton". All in one breath. The only way I know how to give advice.

I know, he said. That's right. Smiling and nodding.

"Don't give up!" The route 3 pulled up and I hopped on. I hope he really thinks I'm right.