This weekend was Tucson’s first official vaping expo. Even if you don’t vape, the phenomenon itself is a fascinating cultural shift that is fundamentally changing public vice.  When I quit smoking six months ago, my e-cig became a transitional crutch, a pretty metal tube that satisfied the oral fixation, the nicotine withdrawals, and a certain postmodern  need for some sort of public vice. I don’t need a hand-slapping government entity to inform me after years of taxpayer-funded social research that I suffer no ill effects from inhaling nicotine vapor. I run faster, breathe more deeply, and speak more resonantly than I did while smoking the death sticks.

The expo was a Disney-esque circus of brightly colored NiQuids, portable hookahs, bong-like tanks and enthusiastic young “mixologists” who blend every flavor imaginable into the nicotine fluid that produces happy clouds of harmless vapor which quickly disappear into the atmosphere. Some tanks possess so much ampage that the vaper’s entire upper body is engulfed in vapor like Beyonce emerging from a Super Bowl halftime show stage elevator. I was wide-eyed as an exposed deer in November. Bouncy young salespeople from White Rhino, Vice, Kanger, NiQuid, SpaceJam, Tenacious V, and other aggressively-branded juice producers urged me to try flavors ranging from butterscotch coffee to pomegranate bubble gum.  Vaping, hip and stylish, is a nascent industry, a far cry from the social, professional, and physical suicide that is smoking. Vapers exhale proudly in mixed company. Our breath smells like wild cherries.

Like any late first-gen industry, the feds are sniffing around the edges of the pie, feeling out how large of a piece they can purloin. I imagine that the heavier mixes (24 mg) which are apparently being fatally consumed en masse by children of double-digit IQ-cursed parents, will soon be banned. The companies which are obviously targeting juveniles risk the developing integrity of the entire industry. No one wants the Camel penis billboard stigma, or any sort of backlash against questionable marketing practices. The predominantly Indian tank manufacturers are quick to place hilariously-worded cards inside their packaging, vaguely indicating that some sort of inspection has taken place.

Weighed down with slick marketing bags heavy with colorful liquids and shiny, Versace-designed vape tanks, we left the expo like magic angels, disappearing into happy clouds, confidently blowing nicotine into the stratosphere and praying for the health of the ozone hole.