CHICAGO—According to locals waiting for the westbound number 66 shuttle at Chicago Avenue and Racine Avenue, a young man and woman seated on a bench at the bus stop are currently making out like it’s fucking Paris or something.

The couple—who appear to be in their early 20s and, sources said, are in the center of Chicago, not the City of Light—locked lips more than 15 minutes ago, and have since been seen nuzzling each other’s necks, staring deeply into each other’s eyes, and generally carrying on as if they were out for a stroll along the banks of the goddamn Seine.

“For Christ’s sake, where are we, the Champs-Élysées?” said bus commuter Temisha Woodry, 38, adding that she has never witnessed such an amorous display at the stop, where most attempts at conversation are reportedly drowned out by the continuous noise of traffic from the nearby highway underpass. “Is that it? Are we on the most beloved and beautiful avenue in the world?”

“Because I thought this was just a pot-holed road that goes to a shitty park,” Woodry added.

After watching the pair embrace on the filthy bench as if it were a sun-dappled picnic blanket in the Tuileries, bystanders told reporters they immediately did a double take, checking to make sure they were, in fact, waiting at a bus stop in Chicago and not relaxing in the breathtaking gardens adjacent to the Louvre.

Other commuters said that upon witnessing the marathon make-out session, they just assumed they must have stumbled into some kind of precious little candlelit bistro where young lovers meet on balmy Parisian nights, stealing kisses over a bottle of fine claret and imagining, if just for a moment, that they’re the only two people in the world.

“Ugh, this isn’t the fucking Place de la Concorde,” said reluctant onlooker Diego Ojeda, 26, adding that the couple must think they’re embracing on “some goddamn moonlit bridge somewhere” instead of on a bench right off the I-94 interchange. “And it’s not the 1920s, either. The way they’re going at it, you’d think they had spent days apart, sitting at sidewalk cafés in the Latin Quarter, scribbling love poems in Moleskine notebooks, and desperately awaiting their next rendezvous.”

“I just hope to God I don’t have to sit next to them,” he added.

As they waited for the bus—which sources said the couple must think is some kind of private horse-drawn carriage coming to whisk them through the avenues of gay Paris—commuters said they did their best to look away from the increasingly eager groping of the lustful youths.

The exception was a visibly intoxicated homeless man who reportedly leered at the pair, and whose tuneless humming the couple apparently must have mistook for the serenade of an accordionist playing sentimental melodies along a cobblestone side street in Montmartre.

At press time, the bus had arrived, and riders confirmed they were impressed that the couple had managed to climb aboard, pay their fares, and take their seats while continuously “sucking face” and “not even coming up for fucking air.”