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This shot reminds me of a totally different scene, in McDonald's. On my last day I couldn't bear to eat another 97% bread doner kebab sandwich off the street, so I ducked into a McDonald's for a McTurco-something (a McGyro, basically). I settled in a corner and tried to eat in peace, but before me were a couple having a bit of a struggle.
The guy was all over the girl, palming her hand, leaning to her, trying to kiss her on the lips. She was hesitant, avoiding eye contact, turning away each time his puckered lips approached. He kissed her on the forehead, the cheek, the chin. The sound this man made actually was smooch smooch smooch. Uncanny, that. He pleaded and said things along the lines of "baby why won't you get it on with me?" [I'm translating words I didn't need to understand to understand.] In response, she giggled, but sternly said: "cos we're in a fucking McDonald's Moustafa. Stop groping me! Think of what the American is thinking." They looked to me. Moustafa - let's call him that - was a persistent fella. "Forget the American, baby, please." Smooch smooch smooch. Neck hand cheek. "C'mon!" "You're not supposed to grope your girlfriend in the middle of a McDonald's, Moustafa. Let me read the paper. World events are in need of my attention." "I'M IN NEED OF YOUR ATTENTION, WOMAN!" [This, a whispered squeal.] |
| Calmly, the girl: "We. Are. In. McDonald's. Be cool, baby, be cool. There's an American present." They looked to me. Moustafa would not be stopped! Smooch smooch smooch. Ear hair nose. It was everything I could do not to look; they were directly in front of me. Outside, a tram passed by, and I did my utmost to pretend to be fascinated by its wheels and their ingenious rolling motion. Smooch smooch smooch. Chin brow nape. I leafed through my Rough Guide's phrase dictionary; "get a room" was not included. | |