One of my neighbours in my Yale dormitory is a severe pothead – pretty much every other day, the odour of burning weed fills the corridor where I live, its tendrils creeping along the walls rather insidiously. Whenever I step out of my room, I am hit by its smell like a sledgehammer on the head. Allow me this little gripe. I am by no means a moralizing prude, and don’t care what people do to their bodies so long as they do it just to themselves. But as luck would have it, I somehow get a migraine from the smell of weed, and so it really bothers me that said neighbour constantly smokes weed.
The Smelly Vagabond 