Cigar Captain

“I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding through the inn door, his sea chest following behind him in a hand-barrow; a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man; his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulder of his soiled- blue coat; his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails; and the saber cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cove and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards:

‘Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest – Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!”

As captains go, our captain does not stray from the norm – he is very much like the illustrious Captain from this literary classic.  Hobbling and scarred, he is never lacking a thrilling story of his rough days at seas, keeping everyone at the edge of their seats. However, there is one major difference. Our captain is no alcoholic; he is a tad bit more refined. He smokes cigars.

But that’s an understatement if I’ve ever seen one. Our Cigar Captain is a connoisseur of cigars. His travels have taken him from the Tropical Rainforests of Costa Rica to the dry deserts of the Middle East to the gorgeous blues of the Mediterranean Islands; he’s seen the Taj Mahal, the Pyramids of Giza, the Hagia Sophia; he even spent some time in Reykjavik, Iceland. All the while, puffing away, searching for new cigar samplers to try, bartering for the best cigar deals, and adding to his vast collection. He smoked Ecuadorian-bound cigars in Ecuador, and treasures cigars with wrappers from his home state, Connecticut. He was once kidnapped by pirates off the coast of Cameroon, and spent some time smoking premium dark cigars with smooth Cameroon wrappers. Inevitably, the Captain has come to know cigars well.

About a year ago, the Captain encountered a terribly rough hurricane 10 miles off the coast of Miami, and, a true Captain to the core, went down with his ship. And came back up in South Beach. He was hospitalized for almost a month, but eventually limped out of there, with his brand new wooden peg leg. Knowing better than to go right back to sailing, he got an apartment in Miami Beach, and immediately set about finding a new place to practice his favorite, significantly safer hobby – cigar hunting. Over the years, he’s acquired a vast knowledge of cigar information, and would like to bestow that pricless information onto you. Here, the Cigar Captain writes about his discoveries of amazing cigar deals and samplers including premium cigar brands, while peppering in tales of his experiences and stories of everyday life in SoBe.

*Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson