Yentetzing

We were in the hotel lobby in Yerushalayim, waiting for our sherut, and what else to do? People watch. 

A beautiful, I mean strikingly beautiful girl came in, with a blonde braid down her back and a willowy figure. She was dressed staidly, practically nun-like, but that did nothing to diminish her striking features.

Ma: "Isn't she gorgeous?" 

Me: "And such a shape!"  

Both: Sigh. 

Ta: "Who's the man with her?" 

She had entered with a chassidishe man of 50 or so. She then scurried off to the bathroom.  

Ta: "Is that her father?" 

Ma: "I guess? They're waiting for the guy to show." 

All: Peering at the door for the expectant guy, as the chassid is. We all three are unfamiliar with Israeli dating mores (my father was shocked that the couples meet in hotels instead of picking up the girls) so we were making it up as we went along.

Me: "There he is!" 

A dashing looking fellow, whose good looks were unobscured by his gigantic black hat, sashayed in, and the chassid shook his hand hello. 

Ta: "Why would a girl be going out with a clean-shaven boy if her father's a chassid?" 

We pondered the matter. 

Girl emerged, unsmilingly nervous but no less stunning, and the guy was so giddy after laying eyes on her his smile stretched disconcertingly from ear to ear. 

The three of them moved off out of sight, and five minutes later the chassid emerged alone. 

Me: "He's not her father, he's the shadchan!" 

All: "Oooooooh." 

Our sherut arrived. 

For some reason I still think of this couple. Did they marry? Did he say no? Did she say no? Did they marry other people? How many kids do they have? 

It seems I am not alone; an irreligious client took a trip to Israel, and her favorite recreational activity?  

Date watching. 

Bring your binoculars, and learn to read lips!