By Stephan Delbos

The plan was deceptively simple: get addicted to alcohol and cigarettes as quickly as possible, ride high for two weeks, then drop the bad habits like....well, like bad habits, and write about it all before press time. But to quote Jello Biafra, the infamous (and ironically, staunchly anti-drug) role model of thousands of crack-addicted gutter punks, "Every theory has its holes when real life steps in”.

The first problem was getting addicted to alcohol. While I have certainly never been averse to a few martinis with dinner, or lunch for that matter, my ability to stomach large quantities of alcohol diminished in direct ratio to the increasing length of my hangovers. When, ten days into the experiment, I woke in an empty night tram covered in ketchup, it seemed like the end of the line; a good time to quit this portion of the experiment. Luckily, I was blessed with a strong constitution. Two days of cold sweats and nausea in a darkened room had me good as new.

Cigarettes were another problem altogether. First: what brand should I choose? Anyone in Prague knows there is only one logical choice: Start. I chose the shorter version because they reminded me of the filterless Lucky Strikes favored by C. Thomas Howell, a.k.a. Pony Boy, in The Outsiders. A Zippo lighter emblazoned with the profile of Betty Page completed the look. Everything was in order for my whirlwind trip to flavor country, but there's one thing both greasers and cowboys keep secret: cigarettes taste like garbage.

Though I did enjoy about one-in-five of the cigarettes I smoked, after a big meal, say, or when I was drinking brandy, for the most part it was a torturous experience from the very first drag. My one pack of Starts lasted for the whole two weeks of the experiment, which quickly began to seem like a failure. The symptoms of nicotine withdrawal were slim to none, unless you count the grinding teeth and irritability, which is basically a way of life for me, anyway.

Saint Augustine famously and accurately said: “Total abstinence is easier than perfect moderation.” Though I’ve never been the poster boy for abstinence or moderation, I see now that an active gag reflex can act as an airbag for addiction, stopping us before we smash our intoxicated faces through the glass.

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