In Mr. Davidoff's guide, he states that a man must refrain from smoking while walking. Superficially, I nodded in agreement as I read this, being as I often equate the gentlemanly undertaking of a good (or good enough) stogie, to a meditation of no small sorts.
Then I looked deeper and was reminded of my own meditations in tobacco, and in general. I was also kindly reminded by my kind self, that there exists the idea of both walking meditations -- and of a hierarchy of manners.
Firstly, the walking meditation. What of a stroll with my thoughts and cigar and probably Ruby, my dachshund? What breech of etiquette, minus a stroll past an oxygen tank employing patient, occurs here? I personally tend to my roses and walk my aforementioned pooch, stogie in hand, all the while strictly following the obvious rules of etiquette such as watching the direction and audience of my smoke. I too, sit on my porch and enjoy myself. I do not overtly walk, I do not hike the nearest mountain, but I do not also overtly remove walking from the table. I feel here that this bit of Davidoff pleasantry is instead a form of entitled laziness.
The privileged hand mindlessly waving responsibilities on down the caste ladder...
What, after all, would occur in my other idea of the hierarchy of etiquette? A person of the fairer sex carrying a something I ought best to be carrying, or, me rushing to open a door for a lady. Shall I instead sit and watch said lady struggle with bag and/or door? Shall I expect someone else to see to assisting her, then thank them for their nice bit of freelance chivalry. Are they then in my employ? The fat cat purrs, maybe not before but they are meow.
Perhaps that was a bit much. Are you kitten me? I can hear you asking. I forge along bravely.
Placing the stick down in an ashtray to perform a duty, I feel, threatens to serve to trespass upon the recipient of your obligated duty. How much more effortless does it look to walk across a room to their aid with your meditation in hand -- than it does to risk the perceived annoyance of "I must now stop my meditation because of your bad timing [sigh]," placing down of your cigar, and schlepping for-or-even-five-lorn to the task at hand?
A far deeper breech of etiquette would be that, than simply holding a cigar while walking. How much more pleasant it is to seem to say: "I've given you so much thought, that I give my cigar momentarily none, and mindlessly lug it along." I mean, lying is not bad etiquette, per say.
Simply, the cigar needs not to be the center of your universe over all other requirements. More simply, don't be a jerk. Be aware. Differently, meditations should serve to anchor you to the world, not remove you from the world.
Upon further inspection of this posit, I'd say it ties in with a sense of entitlement on showy display in my first point of sitting throughout your smoking session. This time the entitlement is perhaps even more vulgar because of the waste involved. There is the waste of the chain of skilled involvement that created your cigar --the grower to manufacturer, and all stops prior, during, and post. It's tantamount to sin.
'Nuff.
In reality, hierarchy.
When I really want my dander raised, I leaf through pictures of cigar groups on social media. The pictures of quite costly and still banded cigars, replete with proof of mangled cutting and tragic lighting efforts. Dumb money. Privilege. Meow.
To have a Cohiba budget and a Swisher Sweets brain -- and to flaunt it proudly.
I regularly smoke only one cigar, the Fuente Curly Head, that comes sans band. I do this because it is germane to its plot. Bands are important to me. A hint of luxury, whether faux or real-aux. It, however, is for me. My personal reprieve or celebration.
I always disband pre-light. I care not to flaunt my poverty, or in the good times, flaunt my wealth. I'd hope you agree, and we Brothers of the Leaf strive toward all inclusive egalitarianism. Instead of striving toward douchery.
This is my pet peeve as is the misinformation of ---
Unless you are a complete ham-fisted imbecile, this is not a true issue.
The band, you see, is not glued to the finely artisan crafted cigar -- it is glued to itself at its end (ideally). By a little dab of stickiness. Again, there is no way to accidentally damage your cigar if you are careful with it, and if you are not...you can break it accidentally at any time, ya ox, ya.
Don't blame the removal of the wrapper because you break keys when unlocking doors. Because you smash pens to smithereens when writing letters. Because all of your woodworking efforts yield toothpicks...
You beautiful barbarian, you.
I will address later, the correct cutting and lighting of a stogie.
[edit/addendum 6/7/17]
If excess glue doth invade unto the top-leaf, allow the cigar to heat up. It'll loosen.