A sunny afternoon at the city playground is a rare treat for most parents—a time when kids can run wild in the fresh air and adults can finally relax on a bench. Our neighborhood playground was recently renovated, fenced in, and right by the entrance hangs an unmistakable blue sign with the rules: strict ban on smoking, drinking alcohol, and bringing in dogs. Most parents naturally respect this. No one wants their one-year-old crawling through grass full of cigarette butts or breathing in acrid smoke.
Last Friday around four in the afternoon, the playground was packed. About six little kids, including my two-year-old son, were playing in the big central sandbox. They made sandcastles, poured water from buckets, and laughed. A young woman sat down on the wooden edge of the sandbox, barely half a meter from the playing toddlers, phone in hand. Her roughly four-year-old boy was running around by the swings. Without even looking around, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, flicked her lighter, and lit up without the slightest hesitation.
Within seconds, a thick, pungent cloud of smoke hovered above the sandbox. The wind blew it straight into the faces of the playing children, who immediately started coughing and rubbing their eyes. The other moms on the benches exchanged disgusted looks, but no one said anything. I stood up, walked over to the sandbox, and in a calm, polite voice said, “Excuse me, but you’re at a children’s playground right by the sandbox. Smoking is not allowed here and the smoke is going right at the kids. Could you please put out your cigarette or go smoke outside the fence?”
The woman slowly looked up from her phone, took a deep drag, stood up, and with unbelievable arrogance blew the entire acrid cloud right into my face. Caught off guard, I coughed and stepped back. With a mocking sneer, she snapped at me: “The park is for everyone and I can smoke wherever I want. Don’t tell me what to do, mind your own brat and stop bothering me, you hysteric.”
Such a vulgar and inconsiderate reaction in front of small children made me instantly furious. I pulled out my phone and, in a completely cold tone, told her she was breaking city regulations and playground rules, and endangering small children with her smoke, so I was calling the city police right away. At the same time, two other moms from the benches joined me, having witnessed the whole scene and stood by my side.
When the arrogant smoker saw me dialing 156 and reporting to the dispatcher on speaker the playground address and a description of the person refusing to put out her cigarette and verbally attacking parents, her bravado vanished. She angrily stomped her burning butt into the grass, grabbed her son so roughly he started crying, and with loud swearing literally ran out of the playground onto the street. All she left behind was the aftertaste of rudeness and a discarded cigarette butt, which I had to pick up from the lawn and throw in the bin. It was a disgusting display of selfishness, which only confirmed to me that you simply cannot give in to people who don’t even respect small children.
