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My West Point Herf - by Chuck Holland

November 2010

My nephew, Holland Gibson, is a plebe (freshman) at the United States Military Academy, a place otherwise known as West Point. Years ago, when he was slogging through the incredibly intricate and complicated application process I promised him if he got accepted Roxanne and I would visit him for every home football game the Cadets played against my alma mater, the Air Force Academy. The first opportunity to fulfill my promise occurred during the early days of November, 2010. It was a beautiful football Saturday, sunny and cool; the leaves had turned; the stadium was sold out and Holland somehow got permission to sit with us. It was a spectacular college football experience where we witnessed a hard fought battle between two teams whose members harbor no NFL dreams. Instead, away from football the players are concerned with how they will serve our country as members of the armed forces. It was all very motivating and inspiring to me. By the way, Air Force won and regained possession of the Commander in Chiefs trophy for the first time in several years, something very important to every Academy graduate. After the game we only had time for a short visit as Holland had to report back to his Company for duties that evening. Before we parted we made plans for an extended visit Sunday when Holland would have more free time.

Sunday was cooler and a bit windy but a relatively nice November day in New York. All in all it was a great day for touring West Point. The place is beautiful and full of history that dates back to the Revolutionary War. In many ways West Point is incredibly inspiring, especially when one considers how many famous American heroes have walked the same grounds we visited. As much as I enjoyed the tour the best part of the visit happened when we decided to take a break from looking at monuments. Holland and I found a secluded bench on the banks of the Hudson and I pulled out a couple of Perdomo ESVs. We fired up the sticks and settled down for a relaxed smoke. It was a bit chilly, but the cigars were delicious and the company fantastic. I told some decades-old tall-tales about the Air Force Academy, Holland explained what life is like for a West Point plebe including some hilarious anecdotes from his basic training summer. We also discussed what he wants to do in the Army after graduation. All too soon the cigars were burning our fingers and one of the best smokes I’ve had in some time came to an end. I’ll visit Holland again; hopefully many times during the next three and a half years, but no matter how often we get together I know we’ll always manage to arrange a private smoke on the Hudson. I’m already looking forward to the next time.

(Some days it just seems like the whole world is going to hell in a handbasket. Then, out of the blue, something happens to restore your faith in what made this country great. Thank you, Holland, for your patriotism, your dedication and your sacrifice to keep America safe, secure and proud. The future is in your hands. Godspeed and good luck! We are all proud of you! - Rick Payne)

Stogies at Hudson Valley Cigars in New York - by Chuck Holland

I recently visited West Point to spend time with my nephew, Holland Gibson, and to watch the football game between the Air Force and Army. After the game, Holland gave us a short tour of the campus before we dropped him off at his barracks as he had duties that required an early return to his company. Did I mention that Holland is a plebe, the lowest form of life at West Point? His weekend privileges basically amount to the rare opportunity to sleep in on Sunday mornings. As we returned to our hotel my wife Roxanne suddenly shouted, "Look, there’s a cigar bar in that building. You wanna check it out?" Without taking time to reply I immediately threw on the turn signal, racked the steering wheel hard over to the left and neatly executed a skidding, four wheel drift across two lanes of oncoming traffic to make the entrance to the parking lot. Not wanting to give my charming wife a chance to change her mind I slammed the car into park, grabbed my jacket, stepped out of the car before it had stopped moving and started walking toward the brightly lighted cigar sign. Roxanne patiently waited for the car to stop before following me into Hudson Valley Cigars.

I stepped into a cozy smoking lounge and met Richard and Danny, who were hanging out around the coffee table and Dave holding fort behind the cash register. Roxanne said a quick hello and disappeared into the bar. Dave escorted me into the humidor where I selected a Kristoff maduro, then I returned to the lounge and fired it up. Within minutes Richard, Danny and I were in a deep discussion about cigars, politics and sports. Is it just me or is every cigar store in the world occupied by exactly the same type of people that are, for the most part, interested in the same topics? After a while Dave announced that the race was starting and I first noticed the television was tuned to a horse race. Surprised, I thought, "Well maybe cigar stores are not exactly the same everywhere." In our shop tuning to a horse race during a fall Saturday afternoon is the type of foul that would result in an individual’s permanent loss of television remote control privileges. The only possible exception to that unfortunate outcome would be a momentary transgression during the switching from one football game to another, but the pause at the horse race had better be for only a few seconds and would have to be followed by profuse apologies and a plausible excuse. "My finger slipped" or "I dropped my cigar in my lap" come to mind as possible explanations. If those actions were deemed acceptable by the remote control commander, in our store that would be Rick, then no loss of privileges would result. But I digress. I blurted out, "Horse racing! Are you guys crazy…Alabama and LSU are playing!" Nobody made a move to change channels, so I shut up and enjoyed the race. I was, after all a guest.

With the exciting horse race in the background I surveyed my surroundings. Hudson Valley Cigars consists of comfortable smoking area of five or six chairs organized around a coffee table, a walk-in humidor and a couple of display cases with pipes and smoking accessories. The humidor contains a nice selection of cigars. And of course the store seems to have a great collection of regulars. It was immediately obvious that Danny and Richard had been to the store many times. They were at home and very knowledgeable about cigars. When George and Cuban George joined us at the table a few moments later they added to the familiar cigar store ambiance. Hudson Valley Cigars has an inviting, easy going atmosphere that every cigar smoker will recognize and feel very comfortable visiting. Best of all, a door across from the cash register connects the shop with a bar and restaurant, a steak house no less, where cigar smoking is allowed! Yes, it’s true. There is an actual cigar bar and smoking allowed eating establishment in New York. It’s one of only two or three in the entire state according to George.

As I finished my survey of the shop the horse race finally ended. George took pity on me, grabbed the remote and switched the television to the Alabama – LSU football game. There were about five minutes remaining in the game, just in time to see a sack of McElroy, a fumble and the winning field goal by LSU. Ouch! Maybe watching the horse race wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The next time I visit Holland at West Point I plan on returning to see my new friends at Hudson Valley Cigars. If Holland has managed to acquire a few more privileges such as permission to leave post, he and I will meet there for an extended herf with all the regulars. I’m looking forward to that moment. And if any readers are ever in the area I highly recommend you take the time, even if the trip is out of your way to stop in and enjoy a smoke. While you’re in the shop take a moment to walk next door with your stick and take a few puffs in the bar or restaurant. That’s something that is nearly impossible to do in New York or in Alabama for that matter.

Hudson Valley Cigars is located at 475 Temple Hill Road in New Windsor, New York. Check them out online at hudsonvalleycigars.com.

HAVANA DREAMIN' PROVES IT'S A SMALL WORLD submitted by Randy Rowe

It happens when you least expect it. I had to make a trip to Stafford, Virginia to work some logistics issues for the Marine Corps and met some really good people. While we were in our meeting, one gentleman stated, "As I was smoking a cigar and eating some wings last night, it occurred to me that we could approach this issue with a new class." Of course, being trained by Rick in cigar etiquette, I had to ask what he smoked. He happened to be a maduro smoker and had a La Gloria. I told him I used to own a cigar shop in Montgomery and he flipped out. He asked me if I knew Rick at Havana Dreamin. Of course, this blew me away and we shared some Rick and Chuck stories. We also had a Dave story of two but some things just aren’t fit to be published.

One thing he told me was of all the shops he visited prior to Havana Dreamin, none of them provided good customer service. When he walked into Havana Dreamin he stated, "They treated me like family and I was immediately comfortable. I felt like I had a home!" Is there a better compliment to a business owner? Now these things can happen once but a few months ago, there was a similar incident. I knew Rick and the boys made a trip to Nicaragua a while back and even knew they met some guys from Maryland. Now, Maryland is a decent sized state so what are the odds I’d run into these guys? Turns out, the odds were good.

I was looking for a smoke shop and was told of a place in Waldorf, Maryland called the Tinder Box. Other Tinder Box stores I had visited in the past were not much more than a hole in the wall but this place was spoken of so highly, I had to check it out. I drove up to Waldorf (about a 40 minute drive) and walked into this really nice shop. A bar was present with HD TVs and a great selection of restaurants to choose from if you’re hungry. The humidor was AWESOME! They had a huge selection and I decided to try a new Rocky Patel product. I paid for my stick, lit up, and sat down to have a beer and enjoy a smoke. While I was smoking, the owner was talking to some customers of their recent trip to the Perdomo factory in Estili, Nicaragua and I had to ask if they knew the Havana Dreamin boys. Unbelievably, he not only knew them, he was on the same trip with them, and he spoke highly of them! He even liked Herb which is a miracle in itself! We shared some stories (still can’t publish the Dave stories) and had a great time. The Tinder Box has become my hangout here and they have some unique events such as the infamous "Bret Favre Blows Night." On this night, you got a free VuVuzwela or kazoo to blow when Farve was on the field. Every time Farve got sacked, you got a free beer. If he happened to retire before the end of the game, drinks were on the house! The annual Halloween party was unhinged! I think the store closed at 4:30 am.

Their location on Highway 301 is heavily travelled with D.C. traffic both morning and night. As mentioned above, there are several quality restaurants behind the shop and all deliver to the store. A few weeks ago, Rick came up to visit the shop and we had a nice dinner at Brasa’s. We had their famous Drunken Ribeye and grilled veggies. There’s also an Italian/Greek restaurant with some great pizza and gyros. Few things go together better than a great pizza, some beer, and a superb stick! It was good to see Rick and we shared a few tall tales but again, the stories of Dave can’t be published in this forum.

One thing in Maryland is very different from Montgomery. Folks could care less about college football. They love the pros, especially the Redskins. The Ravens have a few fans but the Skins are the dominant team. I guess being a Skins fan here is like being a Troy fan in Montgomery…you hope they win but are always worried about getting clocked! Still though, it’s not religion here. They actually have 4 seasons here they enjoy – spring, summer, winter and fall. It’s not just the two seasons of football season and recruiting season. Hockey is pretty popular here as well! I found out quickly that a Steeler and Penguin fan like me is treated as if they had leprosy. This is especially true when facing the Skins, Ravens, or Capitals. They treat me nearly as badly as Bama fan does when they find out I’m an Aub!

Bottom line here is simple…not only is this a small world but cigar people are among the best people on the face of the earth! There’s a friendship that’s special with those people you meet in the different shops throughout America. Many of these people travel regularly and their first stop is always the local cigar shop! Havana Dreamin has a great reputation and it really goes to show Rick, Chuck, and Dave do a fantastic job! Enjoy the great camaraderie in Montgomery and this special football season…well, special so far for Auburn fans. Hopefully, Brad Crewe hasn’t suffered too many psychotic breaks but then again, who would notice?

THE HAND TRUCK INCIDENT by Chuck Holland

One of the important goals we hoped to accomplish during the International Premium Cigar and Pipe Retailers (IPCPR) convention was to purchase a cabinet style humidor for our store. We thought it might be possible to get a good deal especially if we managed to talk someone into selling us a display model off the convention floor. Plus, bringing it home in the back of my truck would also save shipping costs. As it turned out, finding the perfect humidor at a reasonable price was the easy part. All it took was a credit card, a few moments for paperwork before a beautiful, slightly used humidor was ours. The fun started when we tried to arrange a pick up time.

We told the sales lady that we planned to return at the end of the convention to collect the humidor. She was okay with that. Then she asked what we intended to do next. We explained that we thought we w ould borrow a hand truck and move the humidor to the front of the convention hall where I would load it on my pickup truck. She frowned, shook her head and said that we might have a problem with our plan. When we asked how our simple intentions could possibly cause a problem she suggested talking to someone in the convention floor manager’s office.

A short walk to the back of the convention hall brought us to a small office staffed by a bored woman behind a cluttered desk. We explained that we had just purchased a rather large piece of furniture that we wanted to move to the front of the convention center and load onto my pickup truck at the end of the show. Without looking up she flatly stated that there were two problems with our plan. First, union rules clearly indicated that loading and unloading could only be accomplished at the rear of the center. She added as an aside that a police pass would be required to drive a private vehicle to the loading and unloading area. Those passes could only be picked up at the police office on the other side of the hall. Then she pointed out that the second problem with our plan was another union rule forbidding any non-union person from moving objects on the convention floor. With a sweet smile she added that there was some good news because a union operated hand truck could be rented by the hour if we made an appointment. "Okay," we said, "All of this seems like an incredible hassle, but we can deal with it. How much will it cost to get a union operated hand truck for 15 minutes at the end of the show?" Another sweet smile and she answered, "Only 80 dollars per hour and the minimum rental is one hour." My first thought after the sticker shock wore off was that I have got to see the hand truck that requires an 80 dollar an hour union trained and approved operator, because I’ve always been under the impression that hand trucks were pretty simple tools. In fact, I remember buying one a couple of years ago for about 30 or 40 dollars in spite of the fact that I don’t hold a union membership card. Incredibly, I don’t recall getting any special hand truck training and I’m absolutely positive I’ve never had an accident with my hand truck. My second, third and forth thoughts are not repeatable. We thanked the nice lady and told her that we’d be in touch. She nodded and commented that that was what most people said.

While walking away we came up with a better if somewhat less organized plan. It was fairly simple. Step One: Get a police pass so we could legally drive to the rear of the convention hall. Step Two: Drive to the rear of the convention hall after the show. Step Three: Wing it from there. Satisfied that we had a workable plan that promised to save us at least 80 dollars we proceeded to enjoy the remainder of the convention. Two days later we put our plan into action.

At the end of the convention Rick and I drove to the rear of the convention hall armed with our police pass. We flashed the pass at the police check point and were waved through to the loading and unloading area. I parked the truck as inconspicuously as possible and Rick went inside to begin the "winging it" portion of our plan. I remained with the truck and entertained myself by watching in amazement as union operated fork lifts dropped, ran over and generally mangled dozens of crates as they attempted to load them on moving vans parked nearby. In one particularly memorable incident a fork lift was moving rather quickly with a wide wooden crate. Driving backwards and looking over his shoulder the operator failed to notice a concrete pole that struck the crate causing it to spin off of the fork lift and crash to the ground. The top of the crate flew off followed by a flood of broken glass. The noise of the crash caused a man with a hard hat and clip board to run over and inspect the mess. After a moment he started barking orders and a couple of bystanders began sweeping the tiny glass pieces back into the case. When they finished they set the crate back on the fork lift and reattached the top. The fork lift then took off as if nothing had ever happened. Someone is going to get a very unpleasant surprise when they open that crate I thought. Then I wondered if the 80 dollar an hour hand truck operators were better trained or at least more concerned.

Rick eventually reappeared from the back of the convention hall with our humidor on a hand truck. Amazingly, he was operating it by himself in what appeared to be a completely safe and competent manner! Assuming he had not recently joined the hand truck operator’s union I knew we were in violation of several important union rules and more than likely a couple of New Orleans city ordinances. We tried not to attract any attention as we quickly loaded the humidor onto the bed of my pickup truck. I tied everything down tight as Rick returned the "borrowed" hand truck to wherever it belonged. By the time Rick returned I had the truck running. Rick jumped in and said "Let’s get out of here before someone figures out what we’ve done." I nodded in agreement, put the truck in gear and we made a rapid and successful get away.

THE IPCPR ROAD TRIP by Chuck Holland

Our second road trip benefitted from better advanced planning than our first, which isn’t saying much. Instead of dashing off on a whim we had talked about attending the International Premium Cigar and Pipe Retailers Association convention in New Orleans for weeks, dating back to the very first discussions about our cigar store. In fact, after weeks of anticipation and lengthy planning sessions the convention began to take on mythical characteristics. We dreamed of delightful days in the "Big Easy" spent in enjoyable and interesting conversations while we sampled cigars and pipe tobaccos with manufacturers and enthusiasts from every corner of the US. We were looking forward to spending several days in a place where thousands could gather and enjoy cigars without looking over their shoulders for the anti-smoking police. While it was, at times, hard to imagine such a magical place we were certainly ready for an adventure to see if it existed. We got an early start and soon rolled into New Orleans.

We made good time and arrived early enough to check into our hotel, unpack and then catch a cab to the convention center in time to attend the opening seminars conducted by the Cigar Rights of America group and the Tobacconist University. The presentations were interesting, but the strongest impression was made by the audience. When the first presentation started nearly everyone pulled out a cigar or pipe and started smoking! We were stunned. After all, we were inside the New Orleans Riverfront Hilton and we were watching several hundred people smoke without anyone throwing a fit! "Yes," I thought, "we were indeed in that magical place I had dreamed about, the Promised Land for cigar smokers." Unfortunately, in our group only Rick had the foresight to bring a cigar to the seminars. Actually, this wasn’t surprising as Rick is never without a cigar or two in his shirt pocket, day or night. Rick quickly produced a stogie, bummed a light and was soon puffing away. Dave and I resigned ourselves to enjoying the second hand smoke for the remainder of the afternoon.

The next day the convention began in earnest. We were among the first to walk through the convention doors entering an amazing cigar wonderland. As far as the eye could see were banners, displays and booths with names we recognized and many we didn’t. There were cigar and pipe tobacco companies of course, but also companies representing every conceivable smoking accessory. Refusing to give in to the temptation to wonder around the convention floor, or be distracted by all the displays, we followed our well conceived and thoroughly thought out plan. We quickly made our way to the Oliva area to begin our first business meeting. Someone offered each of us a "breakfast cigar" -- a new concept for me -- and we started on the paperwork to set up our account. And that was the exact moment our trip to the IPCPR convention shifted from a visit to a cigar amusement park to something a whole lot like work.

By the time our meeting with Oliva concluded we were hopelessly behind our carefully crafted plan. We didn’t realize it then, but we had just experienced a pattern that would be repeated many times during the following days. Each meeting with our targeted cigar manufacturers became long, complicated, technical, and, at times, stressful affairs as we completed reams of paperwork while spending breathtaking amounts of money. Every completed meeting was a major milestone, however by the end of the first day it was apparent to each of us that the convention would finish well before we reached the end of our "to do" list. A new approach was obviously needed.

The next day we decided to split up and attack the convention from several fronts. This new course of action allowed us to cover more ground. Unfortunately, it also added a new requirement for coordination meetings at breakfast, lunch and in the evenings to compare notes. By midway through the second day the convention had become a hazy blur of meetings about buying cigars, discussions about new cigars, paperwork on top of paperwork, short breaks to smoke cigars and then more meetings. The days seemed long, demanding and tiring, but they weren’t long enough for us to get ahead of our increasingly optimistic schedule. We kept working, scurrying from one meeting to the next, but all too soon it was noon on the last day and the convention was over. We took our unfinished "to do" list and wandered back to our hotel.

After checking out, loading our cars and starting home the weather turned gloomy. Soon it was raining. After a while Rick turned off the radio announcing, "I need some quiet." The next five hours were spent in silence as neither of us was willing to start a conversation. What didn’t seem possible a few short days earlier had occurred. Rick and I had reached an overwhelming cigar saturation point. We both needed a break from talking, thinking and even smoking cigars. The sound of the rain on the windshield was relaxing as we headed north toward Montgomery. It was fun. It was hard work. But, it was most of all an education.

OUR FIRST ROAD TRIP by Chuck Holland

Rick’s unexpected announcement that it was time for a road trip wasn’t inspired by any "Animal House" inclinations as far as I could tell -- far from it. In fact, during the first couple of weeks at our new store the days had fallen into an unrelenting pattern that had us painting, repairing, cleaning and then painting some more for nearly fourteen hours a day to upgrade our future cigar store. Even worse, during the first week we didn’t have electricity forcing us to work without air conditioning, something I do not recommend, especially during an Alabama July. So, Rick’s announcement was welcome. I was more than ready to put my paint brush down for a few hours. Rick explained that he thought a trip to the Cigars and More store in Birmingham for a Rocky Patel event would be a good chance to add to our limited knowledge of cigar store operations. I quickly agreed and a couple days later we quit work early, c leaned up, locked the store and headed north.

As we pulled out of Montgomery I asked Rick if he had any idea where we were headed. "Not really," he answered, adding, "It’s somewhere on highway 280, I think." I proudly pulled out my Garmin and stated, "Then it’s a good thing I brought this." We settled into the drive to Birmingham and I started searching for directions to the store only to discover that the Garmin did not recognize the address I entered. Thinking the address had recently changed for some unknown reason I tried searching for the store using the shopping function. Again I drew a blank and was amazed to learn that my Garmin believes there are no cigar stores in Birmingham. Then I began to wonder if it was intentionally programmed to ignore cigar stores. That sinister possibility, if true, would mean GPS manufacturers had joined the ranks of the anti-cigar villains. Momentarily distracted, I thought a call to the good folks at Cigar Rights of America would be in order so they could begin an immediate investigation into this disturbing situation.

Meanwhile, as I formulated conspiracy theories Rick and I raced toward Birmingham with little more than a vague idea of where we were actually headed. Finally, I decided the call to the CRA could wait at least until I figured out a route to the store and the cigar event. In desperation I glanced at the event advertisement in a Southern Cigar Lifestyle magazine I had been planning to read during the drive. Then I saw the navigation clue I was searching for in black and white on the page. The advertisement clearly stated that the Cigars and More store was located behind the Full Moon BBQ. I started searching for the restaurant in the Garmin thinking this step would surely work. After all, we were in the Deep South and it’s one thing to ignore cigar stores, but no self respecting GPS would ever miss any BBQ joints, big or small, famous, infamous or otherwise. Within seconds the Garmin was talking to us and we were on track to the Rocky Patel event.

After the near fiasco of never finding the Cigars and More store the event was a very pleasant experience. We saw first hand how a big, successful event is managed and we made dozens of new friends. We even managed to corner Rocky for a moment when he graciously offered valuable advice and his insights about starting a cigar store. Finally, to top off the evening I won a door prize, scoring three cigars and an autographed Rocky Patel cutter. All-in-all it was a successful road trip and a much appreciated break from our painting chores, although I remain troubled by the apparent fact that the anti-cigar zealots have successfully infiltrated Garmin GPS units and nobody appears to be concerned but me.

IN THE BEGINNING by Chuck Holland
By the spring of this year it was becoming increasingly apparent that our favorite cigar store was not going to survive the deteriorating economy. When the end finally came a couple days before the Fourth of July weekend it arrived quickly and with surprising finality. Within a matter of hours we were ordered to leave as the property owner changed the locks and turned out the lights. Days later, when negotiations to open a different cigar store in the old location broke down we began planning for a new store in earnest.

As we started to search for a location we received a bit of good advice from our new friends at Southern Cigar Lifestyle magazine. They told us to try to find a free standing building. Strip mall locations, they said sometimes come with common-wall neighbors that complain about cigar smoke. They also mentioned that we should make sure there were smoking areas in the store. With that in mind we soon settled on an old house that had been converted into a store many decades earlier. That conversion resulted in a very open interior with built in shelving, track lighting and ceiling fans in most rooms. There was even a windowless area that was quickly earmarked as the future humidor. But it wasn’t all good. We couldn’t help noticing that the building was nearly 70 years old and in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint and several major repairs, but the location was great, the rent reasonable and the realtor refreshingly pleasant. How could we lose, we asked ourselves?

Front of the store before we started… and this is the inside.

As we waited to get a rental contract written and signed we spent many afternoons and evenings enjoying adult beverages and fine cigars while planning our next moves. Early on our planning sessions focused on cigars; specifically the brands and quantities we wanted to stock. Soon however, our focus changed as Chuck’s wife, Roxanne joined the planning and convinced us of the importance of proper decorating. It didn’t take very long before we became conversant in paint schemes, complementary colors, art work themes and room-to-room flow. Eventually we settled on “Havana Dreamin” for our name and a beach house setting for our theme, complete with bright Cuban style colors. By the time we finally got the keys to the building we were well armed with a decorating plan, a seemingly endless list of projects and an impressive amount of painting tools and supplies. Now the real work began as we slowly transformed a tired, faded and worn out store into a bright, vibrant and inviting location.

Chuck and Roxanne start painting.

Painting was only part of our efforts, but it took up the majority of our time. Somehow we managed to simultaneously juggle several projects as we painted and repaired. Spanish cedar and shelves were ordered and installed in the humidor; old exterior doors were replaced with sturdier models and furniture obtained from a variety of sources including the local flea market which became a favorite source of eclectic beach house items. We also repaired windows, installed blinds and gutted the old kitchen and back storage room so we could turn those areas into more useable space. A whole house attic fan was ordered and immediately installed to remove cigar smoke. Once we finished a few rooms we decided to start selling cigars even though we only had a limited stock on hand. Rick made a convincing argument that limited stock or not, we had to do something to start reversing our breathtakingly negative cash flow. So we started selling while work progressed.

Rick at the ready to reverse our cash flow.

Friends from the old cigar store were soon dropping by on a regular basis to enjoy a cigar and watch our progress. Part of the watching process apparently includes a license to offer loads of “helpful” advice on painting techniques (you missed a spot), decorating themes (that picture looks crooked to me) and store plans (you need a coffee pot and microwave in here). In the midst of the selling and painting multitasking we took two road trips. The first took us to Birmingham for a Rocky Patel event at the Cigars and More store and the other to the International Premium Cigar and Pipe Retailers convention in New Orleans. More on both of those adventures in later blogs, but suffice it to say they were great trips and nice breaks from our painting duties.

Friends checking on our progress. Chuck with Rocky at Cigars and More.

When we returned from New Orleans we entered the final phase of our store improvement plans. All that remained was to carpet the old storage area, finish the kitchen and put a covered deck on the back of the store. We also started an advertising campaign on the local sports talk radio that surprised us with its effectiveness. New customers started arriving daily. They were welcome of course, but the increasing foot traffic through the store slowed our work progress. Additionally, a new distraction began occurring. Nearly every day a FedEx or UPS delivery truck would arrive with boxes of cigars ordered during the convention. Whenever that occurred work stopped as invoices were checked, cigars priced and then placed in the humidor. Frequently when the arriving order was large we found ourselves rearranging the humidor displays to create room for the new cigars. Through it all we managed to keep making slow but steady progress on our improvement projects. Then we were done. We finally declared victory last week as the last shelf in the kitchen was painted. The timing was good as we hosted our first cigar event with Oliva Cigars two days later.

The new look, beach house style. Finally finished and open for business.

Looking back on the last two months we’ve done an impressive amount of work and accomplished a great deal, but we couldn’t have gotten as far as we have without the strong support of our many friends. Not only did our patrons buy cigars when we really didn’t have much to sell, but many volunteered to paint and work on projects. At this point we would all agree we’re very happy the journey is over, but it’s probably safe to say that all of us would have had second thoughts if we had known what was in store for us when we began the journey to build our cigar store from scratch.