IN A LONE STAR STATE OF MIND

Even the sky looks bigger in Texas.

That's the first thought that came to my mind when I peered out the airplane window as we began our descent, noticing the bold, glorious sunset, an awesome vista of navy blue fading to a pale coral as it reached the flat, sandy expanses of prairie. Texas and all things Texan have long held for me a curious fascination, and I was determined to fully experience what I've long been told is a state and a culture like no other - in between, of course, working my first convention as an editor of SMOKE.

In early August, the SMOKE editorial staff arrived in San Antonio for the annual RTDA (Retail Tobacco Dealers of America) trade show, the biggest business and social event of the year for the cigar and pipe industry. The show was held at the Henry B. Gonzalez Convention Center, located near the famed River Walk district, and a short mosey from the historic Menger Hotel, where the SMOKE folk were staying. The Menger itself was an ideal immersion into Texas legend and folklore: it's located right across the street from the Alamo, the shrine of Texas liberty, where 189 men died in Texas' war for independence against Mexico. The Menger Bar, where I had my first drink in the Lone Star state (Wild Turkey, straight up, if anyone's wondering), not only had the look of a classic frontier saloon, with its dim lighting, high ceilings, oak tables, and the biggest mounted moosehead I've ever seen - it also happened to be the place where Teddy Roosevelt organized his first crew of Rough Riders in 1859. So let the others have their Hyatts and Hiltons, I thought - I'm sitting in a legitimate historical landmark!

The RTDA show itself was impressive, and educational, as I got to meet for the first time several of the fine folks I've been dealing with over the phone for the past six months - cigar manufacturers and retailers, mostly, nearly all of whom had positive feedback on the magazine, especially on the in-depth format of our Cigar Review, and our continuing commitment to make it the most detailed, honest, and user-friendly of its kind. Compiling and editing the Review, a duty handled largely by yours truly, is an intensive, often headache-inducing task, and receiving this appreciation from professionals and consumers alike was especially gratifying.

Though certainly tourist-friendly, the River Walk is chock-full of the kind of restaurants that I expected to find in a big Texas city - most of them very accomodating to cigar smokers. The first evening, I sat down at the Ristorante Michelina with Doug Wood of La Perla Habana Cigars, and had the opportunity to sample one of the new Black Pearls, La Perla's new maduro line. Now there was a cigar you could have for a meal - rich, meaty, and robust. In fact, as I recall from the bustle of the evening's proceedings, it turns out that was our dinner.

The next night, however, the meal was more substantial, as myself, associate editor Mike Jessee, SMOKE ad director Jim Cheney, and Yossi Kviatkovsky and Enrique 'Don Kiki' Berger of Cupido Cigar dined at the Texas Land and Cattle Steakhouse - a name I defy anyone to say aloud without giving in to the temptation to feign a rough, cowboy drawl. The steaks were outstanding, the atmosphere was rustic, and the conversation was as hearty and bold as the frosty mugs of Shiner Bock that we washed our meals down with.

Several of the exhibitors at the show got into the spirit as well, and at times it seemed like after every day of working the convention hall came a mad dash from one industry party to another. Tabacalera Perdomo, C.A.O. Cigars, Colibri of London, and S.T. Dupont teamed up to host an impressive bash at the tony Sunset Station, with a live band, dancing, an overflowing Tex-Mex buffet, and as you'd expect, plenty of complimentary cigars. The Mexican Association of Cigar Manufacturers held a great party with a full mariachi band at San Antonio's International Center (where, rumor had it, smoking anywhere but the outdoor terrace would've brought the local federales down on our heads), and the crew from Acid Cigar followed up with a lively event at the spacious Presidio Plaza. My only mild disappointment from that evening was the perplexed look on the bartender's face when I decided to emulate J.R. Ewing and boldly ordered a bourbon and branch. 'Must be from up north,' I snorted internally, and then caught myself, suddenly remembering my status as a native Pennsylvanian and nine-year Manhattanite. Texas, I realized, was starting to get to me.

Altadis U.S.A. put a cap on the week's events in usual upscale fashion the next night, hosting a sprawling cocktail party where manufacturers, retailers, and other guests of the RTDA mixed and mingled. Afterward, a diehard contingent of SMOKE staffers wandered out to a rowdy piano lounge called Howl at the Moon, where two performing piano players took requests, encouraged audience participation, and incited a general sense of foot-stomping fun. The crowd seemed to appreciate the Johnny Cash medley that our written request (and surreptitious financial incentive) brought on... and didn't seem to mind the cigars we'd brought with us from the Altadis party, either!

All things come to an end, though, and as I checked out of the Menger, and awaited the cab to the airport, I made a few realizations. One, I've got to make room in my humidor for several new cigars. Two, I'm probably going to have a hard time finding steaks this good on a regular basis. And three, I'm coming back to Texas, next time for pleasure rather than business. After all, if a business trip can be this rewarding, an honest vacation should be even better, right?

Suddenly, I was snapped out of my reverie by the sight of a hotel employee walking by, sporting a Yankees cap.

It was time to go home.