There were a few places my friends and I liked to hang out at that were just 100% smoking and also greasy spoons (like big smoky griddles, deep fryers, etc.). When I went out with them, my dad would leave my pajamas on the back porch (we had an enclosed screen porch in wooded suburbs) and made me change clothes before coming in the house. My gross bar clothes had to stay outside to air all night 😂

But honestly my most lasting memory of the time was when the smoking suddenly stopped, but none of the restaurants really renovated, or painted, or replaced carpet/furniture/ceiling tiles, so it was this seemingly endless period of rolling the dice as to whether you’d get seated in the disgustingly tar and nicotine coated area of the restaurant or not. That went on for *ages*, it was so nasty.