How not to control mosquito numbers

I lived in southern Turkey in the early 2000s; back then, we had to get home before 1 am prior to the smoke truck made its nightly rounds. Sometimes, either affected by alcohol or a short span of memory, we would hear the truck spewing out smoke and would have to make a run for it.

Either that, or stay tucked away in bars or nightclubs, these memories were well hidden in my memory until I heard the smoke machine again in a Bali beachside resort.

Hearing the hand held smoke machine brought back memories, forgetting about the truck, the sprint home down alleyways and backstreets, fumbling to get the key in the lock and jam a towel under the door and sealing then the window with more towels.