That's why I come to a national park

    All right, I admit it; I'm a total douchebag. I got to Congaree National Park for my periodic stroll around the boardwalk loop. Shortly after arrival, I started smelling cigarette smoke. Clearly, I thought, I'll pass this dipstick and be clear of it. But I went on and on, half a mile maybe. I began to think that it must be some kind of leaf fire somewhere, which would be odd after the torrential rains we had Friday.
    Finally I saw them ahead. I admit to a total douchebag move, banging my walking stick with every step as I came up behind them. Then I went one better: without breaking stride, I told them, "THAT'S why I come to a national park! To smell cigarette smoke!" But FFS, how hard is it to figure out that there are other people here, that they might have come for fresh air, and that maybe a little fresh air might do your hard-worked lungs a little good, too?
    I had earbuds in, so whatever FU type rebuttal they, or rather the one who was actually smoking, might have offered were lost on me. Anyway, they didn't turn around and break off my radio antenna, so there's that. It didn't make me feel better and it probably did nothing to educate them, but sometimes you just can't bite your tongue. Maybe one of these days I'll start working on learning how.