The scene is played out at workplaces and parking lots across the state, but perhaps nowhere is it more dramatic and, well, odd than outside The Queen's Medical Center.

Along the side of Queen's bordered by Lauhala Street, that steep two-lane road by the truck parking for the Board of Water Supply, all the hospital smokers go to have at it. They cling to the chainlink fence like school kids not wanting to come in from recess, like convicts cursing their captors, sometimes a dozen at a time. They have affixed metal cans to the posts to serve as ashtrays and tied plastic bags to the chainlink for trash receptacles. During break times and lunchtime, it's a parade of scrubs, Crocs and ID badges.

Last November, as the state's new anti-smoking law kicked in, Queen's instituted a ban on smoking on the medical center grounds. In conjunction with the new policy, Queen's reminded employees that there are resources for those who would like to quit smoking. Clearly, the ones who didn't want to quit have been pretty resourceful themselves. The chainlink break room is a popular, though very public, place.

This is where the "Of all people, they should know the dangers of smoking!" lecture should come in, followed by the acknowledgement of the complexities of addiction and a mention of the counter argument of freedom of choice.

But all that has been said, and said some more.

Rather, the smoke-blowing masses on Lauhala Street remind us of some truths of human nature: We will accept many changes in order to not make a change; we will find a way to hold on to our habits; you can't legislate and regulate an essentially private behavior and personal choice.

Meanwhile, across the street from the puffers and coughers, medical professionals of all ranks and stripes line up around stanchions to buy food from Yuki's lunch wagon. Which will do more harm, a Camel, or a pork cutlet with mushroom gravy over rice? And all this is happening just outside the door of the Cancer Research Center of Hawai'i.

To be sure, before the smoking ban, it was like a fog bank around the main hospital. Patients would wheel themselves and their IV stands out to the patio and sit in their pajamas and puff away with pale, shaky hands. You had to hold your breath and run inside to get to an appointment. So in comparison, this is better. It's probably as good as it gets.

But what can you do? Everybody has their something. And while other smokers are finding hideouts in parking lots and alleys across the Islands, at least they can be a bit inconspicuous, which is hard to do in purple scrubs and green Crocs.

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at 535-8172 or lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.