This May 1, while most of us were celebrating Labor Day with some well-deserved laziness, I was in mourning. I wore black and lowered the shades in remembrance of what could have been, of what should have been - the Beijing smoking ban that is now two years old and that has all the force of a human of the same age.

New subway lines, the Bird's Nest, queues for buses, all very nice. But the ban was supposed to be the crowning jewel of Beijing's Olympic improvement program. Countries we claim to have surpassed in economic might and glory - France, Germany, Australia - all boast smoke-free facilities. You can take a deep whiff of your Beaujolais in Paris, bite your schnitzel in Berlin, sip your Fosters in Sydney, and need never fear a cloud of smoke marring the experience.

OK, in Beijing you don't have to get into smoke-filled cabs anymore, but we should be doing a whole lot better. After all, it was our ancestor Confucius who set the standard for humanity - treat people the way you want to be treated.

Don't get me wrong; I understand the magic of nicotine addiction. I'll confess, I smoked for years myself. I used to smoke in the shower but it got kind of awkward washing my hair. My habit ended in Los Angeles where you can walk down the street with a burning American flag, wearing a "Proud to be Gay" T-shirt, and get no flack until you light up a cigarette.

So I understand the fraternal buzz of sharing butts with your friends at the table, the beauty of having something to do with your hands and mouth besides eating and talking. But neither I, nor any smoker I ever knew, enjoyed having smoke blown at him. Confucius 1 - Smokers 0.

"Hey, Beijing is so polluted, what difference can a pack a day make?" Honestly, I've heard this rationale from die-hard smokers more frequently than I care to admit. Logic has no place in some people's lives. Carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide and particulate filth are the price we pay for living in one of the most happening cities on the planet. Those who think the 4,000 chemicals in cigarettes don't make their personal pollution profile exponentially worse are welcome to puff their way into early extinction but they shouldn't be allowed to sentence us to a second-hand death, too.

And that's where "To Smoke or Not to Smoke" becomes a question to divide the evolved from the knuckle draggers. Smoking kills 2,000 people a day in China, not just the fools puffing but also their loved ones and the many, many strangers who can't get away from their second-hand clouds in this crowded land. But it kills slowly, so slow brains can't quite make the connection. Then there are those sad clowns who hear the statistics and make quips about population reduction. Under the bus with them.

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All those drunken drivers sure got their act together in a hurry once the police finally started cracking down, right? Kicks in the wallet and the prospect of jail are the only persuasive arguments for some people. It won't take much to give our neglected ban some much-needed teeth.

Picture one of those big, fancy, crowded restaurants on a Friday night, Weixianglai for example. The table of big shots burning their Lucky Pandas have no idea anything is wrong until the police burst in. It's a raid! Tickets for the whole table and attendant loss of face. The other patrons breathe a sigh of relief now that they can enjoy their 100 yuan/jin fish heads.

The word gets out. The ban finally works. One small breath for my lungs, one giant breath of fresh air for Beijing.