I have always had a fascination with smoking cigars, the thought of which always transports me back to trips as a child to visit my Grandpa in his office. The site of his wood paneled walls, leather sofas, and the portrait of a proud Matador hanging above his huge desk, painted in crimson red, saffron yellow, and peacock blue, with the distinct smell of cigar smoke from his business meetings emanating throughout. Although my grandfather had quit smoking by the time i had come of age, and I had been vigilant all my youth to abstain, i have recently begun to acquire an interest in cigars. My friend recommended Barclay Rex, a cigar shop on 51st and Lexington. I have gone twice over the past few months, and each time have enjoyed a very pleasant and informative experience. The first time the manager lead by through the humidor for half an hour, explaining the different varieties, histories, and strengths of their extensive collection of cigars before i finally settled on the one that was right for me. Barclay Rex has a smoking lounge in the back, fully furnished with comfortable chairs, and magazines of every interest, but mostly business and finance as per the faculty of their standard clientele. In a haze of smoke and reverie I was transported back to my grandfathers office, with his sonorous voice saying "aqui, mi amor--this is how you become a man" I felt his strength, his business acumen, and his nonchalant charm flowing through my system. A vision that soon became shrouded in smoke, and resigned to the past, as the manager came in asking how i was getting along. I realized the cigar had burnt down to the stub, and packing my things I prepared to depart. As i walked out the door I took one more wistful glance at the lounge, and told the manager that although it may be my first time here, i had a feeling it wouldn't be my last.