The Trade Winds hotel room I’ve just entered smells like stale cigarette smoke. As soon as I opened the door that overwhelming stench took me back to my childhood when my mom would sit on the floral print couch and chain smoke Marlboro Reds. The phone up to her ear. The TV on in the background either showing a soap opera or music videos. A large ashtray full of cigarette butts sitting on the coffee table in front of her. It’s like I’m two places in time at once.