I was 18 and in my Senior year of Prep School (yeah, wore a blazer, a school tie, Bass Weejuns, gold wire frame eyeglasses - the whole shebang). I had my Dad's old Comoy, a straight apple. Cleaned it up and bought a tin of Borkum Riff Bourbon Whiskey (with that great black and white ship graphic). It was the same tobacco the school headmaster smoked. He had a nice Decatur pipe rack and the large can of the tobacco on his desk...and even smoked in his office. I figured if Borkum Riff Whiskey was good enough for him I'd give it a shot.
After a few fits and starts I got the hang of it. Later in the year I got caught, after classes in the school's newspaper office. I was on the staff and the editor and I were working on the coming week's edition. The headmaster popped in unannounced. And there I was, like some Walter Cronkite wannabe - no blazer; sleeves rolled up; loosened tie; Dad's Comoy clenched in my teeth; hunting and pecking away on an old circa 1940-ish boat anchor of a Smith-Corona typewriter. The headmaster looked at me and I was waiting for him to tell me I was suspended for smoking on school grounds. Instead, he sat down in a nearby chair and simply asked me what was I smoking. I told him and to my surprise he pulled out his pipe, and asked if he could grab a bowl. I handed him my tin and we sat there for a good hour talking and smoking. Before he left he told me don't smoking during class hours; to slow down and enjoy the tobacco; where two good local pipe shops were located and keep this incident on the QT. Also, if I was going to smoke in the newspaper office crack a window to get rid of any evidence.