I don't smoke. In my 46 years on earth, I have never even tried a cigarette.

Although I don't mind the smell of smoke when it's fresh, I get grumpy when it interferes with a nice meal and can't stand it later when the stale odor clings to my clothes. I certainly don't want its residue settling in my lungs.

It's an expensive, unhealthy, and often annoying practice, but in their zeal to eradicate it, Pennsylvania's powers-that-be have gone way too far.

A long-anticipated statewide smoking ban went into effect Sept. 11, but the next day, leaders of the State System of Higher Education startled many with their version of it. While the state ban aims to eliminate smoking from public places such as offices, schools and restaurants, the university version prohibits smoking entirely, anywhere and everywhere on the campus grounds.

Even outdoors.

Even in parking lots.

Parking lots? They allow cars there, don't they? Cars emit fumes that, in an enclosed space, would kill anyone who inhaled them -- and quickly, not slowly like cigarette smoke.

By allowing cars, which many people deem necessary to a good quality of life, university leaders are acknowledging the scientific fact that the fumes dissipate in open air and pose no threat to public health. Wouldn't the same be true of cigarettes enjoyed in the great outdoors?

Honestly, I expect a higher level of reasoning ability -- and reasonableness -- from the Ph.D.s in charge of educating our young adults.

The outcry on the campuses was immediate. While employee unions protested the administrators' high-handed decision as a violation of their collective bargaining agreement, students held smoke-ins to protest the violation of their civil rights.

Some have mocked the students for applying the term "right" to the act of smoking. Perhaps the language we apply to the freedom to worship, assemble, speak freely and vote seems too lofty for the mere lighting of some dried tobacco, but smoking is, in fact, a right.

Tobacco use is still legal in the United States, and our country learned the hard way -- through the Prohibition fiasco -- that banning a substance many people use and enjoy will backfire.

The Centers for Disease Control reported last November that after years of steady decline, the number of smokers in America had reached a stubborn plateau. From 1997 to 2004, the rate fell from 24.7 to 20.9 percent, then stayed at that level through 2006. That's about 46 million smokers, and 80 percent of them smoke every day. Worse news is that a higher percentage of high school students -- 23 percent -- smoke.

By contrast, nearly 90 percent of American adults use alcohol at least occasionally. There's no suggestion of attempting an alcohol ban again because we know from experience and common sense that when we make a reasonable activity illegal, we drive it underground, embitter our formerly law-abiding fellow citizens and reap unintended consequences.

In fact, those are the same reasons that many university presidents, among other public leaders, are asking the public to consider returning the drinking age to 18. It is unreasonable to tell kids who can vote, marry and go to war that they can't legally enjoy a beer. Studies show that the unintended consequences of the raised drinking age include higher rates of drinking in the 18-22 age group and a much higher incidence of binge drinking and alcohol poisoning.

Other than the unreasonable drinking age, our collective approach to alcohol mostly fiddles around the edges. We try to mitigate the impact of a behavior that is enjoyed socially but is socially costly. We recognize that we cannot eradicate it.

It's much the same with cigarettes, and up to this point, our approach to the problem has also been fairly reasonable. The federal government has waged a massive education campaign. We conduct and publicize studies on the health risks of smoking and second-hand smoke. We ban the sale of cigarettes to minors. We designate certain areas for smokers and keep them far enough from nonsmokers to preserve the principle of choice.

And I find that most smokers are polite and sensitive toward nonsmokers. They try hard to satisfy themselves without inconveniencing others.

But smoking persists. Perhaps the lower number of smokers tempts officials to think there will be less protest -- and less public sympathy for the protestors -- if their tactics get ridiculously harsh. But prohibiting a legal activity in places where it poses no threat to other people's health or comfort is an admission that they're not doing this for the good of society, they're doing it for the smokers' own good -- against their will.

It is Prohibition by other means. And as much as I dislike cigarette smoke and regret its costs in human lives and misspent resources, a de facto prohibition isn't right. It isn't American. I thought we were smarter than this.