The gray particles circle the lights, curling up to the ceiling. Slowly, they disperse into a sour-smelling haze. At 6 p.m., you scrunch up your nose in response.

Eventually, the air is permeated, and you stop noticing as the smell and the haze--the chemicals become part of every breath. When you step outside the bar, meeting fresh night air, your lungs suddenly realize their full potential. Soon, you can distinguish smells. And you can smell...yourself. Although you haven't lit up, you reek of all the cigarettes in the night spot you just exited. The sheer volume of smoke that clouds the bars of this town amazes me. In April, I hit up a few bars in New York City while visiting some Nittany Lion alumni. I was back in the Big Apple last week for a journalism conference, where post-deadline outings are a must. It was amazing to enjoy my food, drink and company without getting sniffly or red-eyed from carcinogenic air.

I keep a bottle of sweet-smelling spritz at home, but it isn't for before I go out--it's for after. I spray it all over my head at the end of those nights when, after returning home, I am disgusted by the smell of my own hair. The smoke stench permeates everything. If it takes half a bottle of Febreze--a necessary purchase for anyone who plans on going out in this town--to get the smell out of your jacket after an evening in a bar, what is that smoke doing to your system? I don't want to damage my lungs, increase my risk of cancer or experience various other hazardous effects. But I have to wonder how much the pro-cigarette atmosphere of State College is harming my body with second-hand smoke.

I'm not trying to tell smokers what to do. On the contrary, I'm a big fan of personal choice. Some friends of mine are nicotine freaks--I think they're slowly killing their lungs, which I point out to them regularly--but it's their choice. Thankfully, they are polite when accompanied by non-smokers and try to exhale away from other people.

But, the smoke still hangs in the air. With that smoke comes about 4,000 chemical compounds, as Penn State health educator Linda LaSalle told me.

As nights wear on at the crowded bars and parties of State College, I become a smoker, too, though I've never dragged on a cigarette. The small, enclosed spaces with no ventilation force me to breathe that air.

Restaurants have smoking and non-smoking seating. So why can't bars have some non-smoking nights?

Our town culture insists on linking tobacco and alcohol--"I only smoke when I drink," as some friends have told me. So where are the choices for the non-smoker? Just as there is no choice for smokers but to go without nicotine in New York bars, there is no choice for non-smokers but second-hand carcinogens here. I challenge local bars to host a smoke-free night. I am not the first. Earlier this year, Penn State Students for Tobacco Awareness collected about 2,300 signatures on postcards asking bars to go smoke-free.

Ryan McGarry (senior-pre-medicine) told me a little bit about the campaign. As a cancer survivor, McGarry can't believe non-smokers must deal with the carcinogens that litter the air in local watering holes. He also hails from California, where laws ensure that he can enjoy smoke-free bars. The campaign knows it is up to the bar owners to grant us, their patrons, a smoke-free option. The success of a well-publicized, smoke-free night will be seen when someone takes the initiative to try it.

I'd love to see a weekend night where people who prefer not to reek of smoke can enjoy an evening: one with fresh air. I'll be there, bring friends and might even buy the first round.