First cigar

[jackohalloran]

Hey FOH's

This thread is to share your first ever experience smoking a cigar. Can you remember what the cigar was and what enticed you? Were you introduced by a friend?

My first cigar was when i was 16, on a ferry back from France where myself and a bunch of friends purchased cigars. While smoking the cigar was very enjoyable (wish i could remember what it was) our etiquette was some what... deplorable, not to mention about 15 minutes after finishing it feeling as sick as a dog Didn't put me off cigars though, and im very glad

[MrGlass]

First "cigar" was a Wee Willem, and I was 14. I revisited with a box of Jewels Vanilla many years later (the flavoured wooden tip really completes the experience). I had gone to the tobacconist to buy a cigar for a party, and was recommended the Jewels

Hard to believe after such an introduction I ever made it this far.

First Cuban was a Romeo y Julieta No 1 that I picked up from the casino after a successful night to smoke on the drive home. Upon reaching the car, I established that a cutter was required, so there was a sheepish visit back to the store where they cut it for me.

This cigar wasn't particularly good, but was worlds above what I had previously tried, and eventually led to me pursuing this hobby further.

[cigcars]

*Not really quite sure what the first one was. In years way, way back, I can remember trying something like a White Owl...like liquified, metal & iron. Then a Dutch Masters - a BIT more palatable. Then the handmades, I do believe was a Cuesta-Rey. Then I got very desirous of a Cuban, which I could not get ANYWHERE. Then in 1997 I was given my first one from a sympathetic store tobacconist who showed me his stash. That one I do remember. It was a Montecristo panatella, I think. Was empty of flavor, but I was just delighted to try one. Then some time later he gave me a Cohiba, and I think it was a robusto.

After that I found a Los Statos Deluxe from somebody else who indulged me. From then on up to the 2000's I've acquired what I now know were numerous fakes. One box WAS authentic, and that was the Saint Luis Rey Churchill. That honeyed, maple aroma was unmistakeable!

Now, I'm fully set and stocked with authentics of every brand they make that's available. Every now and then, a few fakes get through, like from the local boys. But the first real, authentic Monte Cristo No. 2 I got from the tobacconist here. And I've never been the same since!

[#2 man]

First ever backwoods smoke, first ever cuban BBF

[Puros Y Vino]

My first cigar was a Joya Di Nicaraugua Antonao at a friend's party. My first ever Cuban was a RyJ Churchill from the same friend not too much later. After then, I'd buy a few 5 packs on the way back from Mexico duty free and now 350+cigars later..I'm hooked.

[NitrousPurger]

first ever cuban was a RYJ panatella and i seriously thought i was puffing on a Tootsie Roll it tasted so chocolaty...

[Rehman]

Come to think of it, the entire Yin & Yang (or Duct Tape: love your sig, MrGlass!) of cigars was embodied in the very first one that did it for me. It was a Dunhill Churchill, given to me by a horrid little man.

He was a nouveau riche, politically connected powerbroker and kingmaker who'd just been controversially appointed boss of the company for which I worked, and was ingratiating himself with the staff by handing out these cigars to all & sundry. The generosity might have meant something had it not been so contrived -- petit coronas simply wouldn't have reflected the extent of his literally disposable income.

This was not uncommon, to be sure. In our country's emerging economy, the 1990s cigar boom was fuelled by this need to show off. I'd previously accepted handouts of Davidoffs, RyJs or Montes for passing on to those I knew liked cigars. But this fellow was now my boss -- money doesn't care who belongs to it -- and it was indeed a handsome cigar. So I tucked it in my jacket pocket anyway, took it home and left it on my desk, where it was soon buried and forgotten beneath the piles of paper that take over all my work spaces.

Finding it again on a rare tidying binge, I thought, "Hello, this thing's still here. Might as well smoke it." I parked myself in a weather-beaten rattan rocking chair on my balcony, bit off the cap and lit the foot with a match. Or several matches.

Magic happened. Tastes and aromas commingled in my head. Through the curling blue veils of fragrant smoke, the outside world seemed filtered into clarity. And it took a long, contemplative time to finish, changing and evolving with every puff. This, I thought, was something very special. It was like drinking a great wine, where the experience develops and deepens from first sip to last, but without the effect of alcohol on brain chemistry.

I thereafter dived headlong into smoking as many cigars of different types as I could. I still do, if not quite as indiscriminately; now I play favourites.

So, through gritted teeth, I must acknowledge what was for me the unseemly provenance of a now-cherished rite. As a lotus flower blooms in rank decay, transcendence has sprung from corruption.

[thechenman]

Come to think of it, the entire Yin & Yang (or Duct Tape: love your sig, MrGlass!) of cigars was embodied in the very first one that did it for me. It was a Dunhill Churchill, given to me by a horrid little man.

He was a nouveau riche, politically connected powerbroker and kingmaker who'd just been controversially appointed boss of the company for which I worked, and was ingratiating himself with the staff by handing out these cigars to all & sundry. The generosity might have meant something had it not been so contrived -- petit coronas simply wouldn't have reflected the extent of his literally disposable income.

This was not uncommon, to be sure. In our country's emerging economy, the 1990s cigar boom was fuelled by this need to show off. I'd previously accepted handouts of Davidoffs, RyJs or Montes for passing on to those I knew liked cigars. But this fellow was now my boss -- money doesn't care who belongs to it -- and it was indeed a handsome cigar. So I tucked it in my jacket pocket anyway, took it home and left it on my desk, where it was soon buried and forgotten beneath the piles of paper that take over all my work spaces.

Finding it again on a rare tidying binge, I thought, "Hello, this thing's still here. Might as well smoke it." I parked myself in a weather-beaten rattan rocking chair on my balcony, bit off the cap and lit the foot with a match. Or several matches.

Magic happened. Tastes and aromas commingled in my head. Through the curling blue veils of fragrant smoke, the outside world seemed filtered into clarity. And it took a long, contemplative time to finish, changing and evolving with every puff. This, I thought, was something very special. It was like drinking a great wine, where the experience develops and deepens from first sip to last, but without the effect of alcohol on brain chemistry.

I thereafter dived headlong into smoking as many cigars of different types as I could. I still do, if not quite as indiscriminately; now I play favourites.

So, through gritted teeth, I must acknowledge what was for me the unseemly provenance of a now-cherished rite. As a lotus flower blooms in rank decay, transcendence has sprung from corruption.

Nice story, and a much better cigar than my first which was a Macanudo...Philly Blunts don't count right?

[Stalebread]

It was a Marsh Wheeling. (I am from W.Va, afterall.) 1968 or 69.

First Cuban was much later. Don't remember what it was. My wife and I were in Barcelona and there was a cigar counter/humidor in a department store where we were shopping. I picked up a couple of robusto size cigars. Later that evening we climbed out a window to the hotel's roof and smoked them there.

[Habanos2000]

First was a Dominican Davidoff Grand Cru #2

First Cuban was a Hoyo DC

[Wicky]

Well, not counting the Wolf Brothers Crooks Mike Hogan and I used to smoke in 7th grade.

It was a Swisher Sweet with a rum and coke my new neighbor and now long time friend brought over when I'd just moved into this neighborhood moons ago.

I've come a long way since then. But the best part is , there's still a long way to go.

[rdb6]

My first cigar was a Hav A Tampa, probably back in the mid sixties. My first handmade was a Royal Jamaica, which I thought was great. My first experience with Cubans are cigars brought back from the Caribbean by friends on vacation. What a thrill to smoke a Cuban. The first Cuban that rang my bell was a Siglo 1 smoked in Jamaica. I loved that cigar and I still do.

[adic88]

Come to think of it, the entire Yin & Yang (or Duct Tape: love your sig, MrGlass!) of cigars was embodied in the very first one that did it for me. It was a Dunhill Churchill, given to me by a horrid little man.

He was a nouveau riche, politically connected powerbroker and kingmaker who'd just been controversially appointed boss of the company for which I worked, and was ingratiating himself with the staff by handing out these cigars to all & sundry. The generosity might have meant something had it not been so contrived -- petit coronas simply wouldn't have reflected the extent of his literally disposable income.

This was not uncommon, to be sure. In our country's emerging economy, the 1990s cigar boom was fuelled by this need to show off. I'd previously accepted handouts of Davidoffs, RyJs or Montes for passing on to those I knew liked cigars. But this fellow was now my boss -- money doesn't care who belongs to it -- and it was indeed a handsome cigar. So I tucked it in my jacket pocket anyway, took it home and left it on my desk, where it was soon buried and forgotten beneath the piles of paper that take over all my work spaces.

Finding it again on a rare tidying binge, I thought, "Hello, this thing's still here. Might as well smoke it." I parked myself in a weather-beaten rattan rocking chair on my balcony, bit off the cap and lit the foot with a match. Or several matches.

Magic happened. Tastes and aromas commingled in my head. Through the curling blue veils of fragrant smoke, the outside world seemed filtered into clarity. And it took a long, contemplative time to finish, changing and evolving with every puff. This, I thought, was something very special. It was like drinking a great wine, where the experience develops and deepens from first sip to last, but without the effect of alcohol on brain chemistry.

I thereafter dived headlong into smoking as many cigars of different types as I could. I still do, if not quite as indiscriminately; now I play favourites.

So, through gritted teeth, I must acknowledge what was for me the unseemly provenance of a now-cherished rite. As a lotus flower blooms in rank decay, transcendence has sprung from corruption.

I remember you telling me this story long ago. That's one hell of a great cigar to call your first!

[cgarner]

Monti 2 in Costa Rica. Enjoyed it the next day after renting a car and driving all day to the closest LCDH and paying off a cop for speeding, my wife swore she would never accompany me on my cigar purchasing trips ever again.

[Fuzz]

My first was a Cohiba Esplendidos, given to me by a friend, back in '92.

[ZinZan]

My 1st cigar was a nat sherman. First cuban was tube bolivar, I cant remember what it was.

[Warren]

My first cigar was a little machine made cigar that I bought in a pack at the pub back in the late 70's.

I enjoyed them but never finished the pack.

I also didn't buy anymore cigars until the mid 90's and again it was through a liquor outlet here in Brisbane.

These were my first cubans and it wasn't until years later that I realized that I was buying cigars that were supplied by Rob.

I still have the last remaining small handmade cigar from that pack I bought back in the 70's and it lives in my desk top humidor as a reminder of what led me to now.