In the heat of early afternoon in Tehran, the buildings and roads and cars flickered and swam before the little boy’s eyes. His father in the front seat was talking about parking…hungry…restaurant…no parking…valet parking… The little boy glanced out of the car window, and caught sight of a young man in a white shirt and black suit giving driving orders to his father. His sister, sitting on his other side in the passenger seat remarked “why does this waiter look like an Italian”, and turned away. The little boy looked out again to see the Italian-looking guy, tall and slim, dressed same as the guy who was giving driving orders, but with a bow tie, walk up to the car. The dustiness and blurriness stopped, and everything became crystal clear. The Italian man in a bow tie caught the valet around the waist, turned him around, and kissed him loudly and squelchily in the face. They looked down at the little boy, who was staring at them through the car window. They both turned, and with their arms intertwined, walked away. His mother and father stared at each other, and his mother said something in farsi which he knew meant as “juicy kiss”. The little boy shrieked “Did you see that? Gaysters! Gays! Gay kiss! Did you see the gay kiss?”. Now they were all out of the car. His mother was shushing him, but somehow he could not shush and wanted to keep talking about the kiss he saw. His father was saying something in farsi. His mother kept saying be quiet now. They were in the restaurant, and a tall slim dark man in a bow tie was showing them to their table.