18

bright lights, big city, that's where i want to be. sign me up for everything excluding the lines outside every major restaurant in sight and mind. excluding the waiting lists on every possible eatery and cafe. excluding the 'we're full' signs hung upon the doors of the quaintest eat-ins. the prospect of finding a suitable first-date dining location could only be harder on christmas eve. in a snowstorm. at the north pole.

and as your mind digresses in the multitude of levellic directions it takes when you're anxious and slightly hypoglycaemic, you realise that you're every bit the uncanny little devil who could sell high heels to the lady who lives in a shoe. time to get creative, before your date realises you're just winging it - and your latent mind suggests a nice eatery a couple of blocks down, at the corner of 54th and bennet.

hmmm, recalling, recalling. one of those middle-eastern places. can't really place the name...

the name is somewhat elusive, start's with an 'e' and sounds a bit arabic. or something like that. maybe an 'al-' something? or 'el-' something?

argh, this is annoying, how are you supposed to suggest a place if you can't even remember its name?

when suddenly, it hits you:

'bosphorus'. your voice sounds strangely baritoned as the word leaves your mouth, when you realise that your date has spoken, syllable for syllable in sync with you. now staring at you, as you are at him, contemplating the fact that the both of you had the same idea in mind:

holy shitballs, jesus, the psychic hotline called and the zerg want their hive-mind back!