There’s a story about an incident aboard a train en route from Paris to Barcelona. In a compartment are four people: a beautiful young girl traveling with her elderly grandmother, and a stately general, who is accompanied by his young, handsome second lieutenant. The foursome is sitting in silence as the train enters a tunnel in the Pyrenees, the mountain range on the border between France and Spain.
It is pitch-dark in the tunnel. Suddenly the sound of a loud kiss is heard. It is followed by a second sound, that of a loud, hard smack. Upon exiting from the tunnel, the four people remain silent, with no one acknowledging the incident.
The young girl thinks to herself, ‘boy that was a swell kiss that good looking lieutenant gave me. It’s a shame that my grandmother slapped him, because he must have thought that it was I who slapped him. That’s too bad, because when we get to the next tunnel, he won’t kiss me again’
The grandmother thinks to herself, ‘That fresh young man kissed my granddaughter. But fortunately, I brought her up to be a lady, so she
Slapped him real good. That’s good, because now he’ll stay away from her when we get to the next tunnel.’
The general thinks to himself, ‘I can’t believe what just happened! I personally hand picked him to be my aide, and I thought he was a gentleman. But in the dark, he took advantage of that young girl and kissed her. But she must have thought it was I who kissed her, since she slapped me instead of him.’
The young lieutenant thinks to himself, ‘Boy that was wonderful! How often do you get to kiss a beautiful girl and slap your boss at the same time?’