I may have mentioned before that Hungarians love to make out with each other. From thirteen to 73, they can be spotted sitting on each others' laps, arms entwined around necks, fully macking it on any form of public transit or any bench in the city. It is spring time here. Glorious spring time. Walking around with no jacket whatsoever and sweating slightly springtime. Flowers have filled the city, the sun shines through a blue sky, and the ice cream stands have opened.
Needless to say, the making out has increased exponentially.
Yesterday I was sitting on the metro, zoning out, when a couple ran to catch it before the doors closed. Through some error in judgement, the man wound up in the next car further down, while the woman ended up in my car. For the two minute ride to the next station, they made eyes at each other through the windows, laughing and gesturing to each other to join them in their car. You come here. No, you come here.
We arrived to the next station. The doors opened, and they both ran out, meeting each other in the middle and immediately intwining in a passionate lock. As they embraced, and several people smiled or chuckled, a neni put her hand over a small boy's eyes. The metro doors closed, the couple still locked together on the platform, and the train pulled away.