In D.C., One Last Puff Before the Clock Strikes 12

Green planned to distribute cigars to all of the patrons about 10 p.m. for one final smoke. When the clock struck midnight, he was going to collect the ashtrays and throw them out in a little ceremony.

Some bar and restaurant owners fear they might lose business. But Herbert Anthony Fuller, a 41-year-old bartender at Adams Mill whom patrons call "Big Tony," was confident customers would return.

"People like alcohol, so they're still going to come out," Fuller said, leaning on his elbows over a stack of glass beer steins on the edge of the bar. "People like to meet girls, so they're still going to come out. People still like to eat food, so they're still going to come out."

As Green walked by, cracking jokes, Fuller asked, "Does it look like he's sweating?"

Not everyone at the bar opposed the ban. Jeff and Kim Preston live in Woodley Park and went to the bar for a dinnertime drink. They said they look forward to cleaner air when they go out.

"It's not that we particularly mind other people smoking, but it's nice when you go home after spending a whole night at a bar not feeling like you can't breathe and smelling like a cigarette," said Kim Preston, 30.

Added Jeff, 29: "We're happy that this one passed."

Despite his railing, Rossa found a bright side to the new ban. Without their cigarettes, he said, smokers might become better conversationalists.

"The cigarette is like your friend. It's almost like somebody who's there. You're enjoying this cigarette," he said. Without it, "this will create more socializing, because people will not smoke. Hey, it could be very interesting for conversation."