Martin Scorsese - Taxi Driver: Date at the p**no Theater lyrics

EXT. MANHATTAN STREET - EARLY MORNING TRAVIS, dressed to the teeth, walks brightly down the sidewalk. His face is frehsly shaved, his hair combed, his tie straightened. He pauses in a store window to check his appearance. Under his arm he carries the gift-wrapped Kristofferson record album. OUTSIDE PALANTINE HEADQUARTERS BETSY, smartly dressed, waves goodbye to another CAMPAIGN WORKER and walks out the door to greet him. A SHORT WHILE LATER, TRAVIS and BETSY are walking down Broadway toward Times Square. BETSY does not let their bodies touch as they walk although TRAVIS contemplates edging closer to her. Betsy has opened the package and is admiring the record - or, rather, Travis' sentiment behind giving it. Travis looks around himself with pride: This is a moment in his life - one of the few. BETSY: You didn't have to spend your money - ? TRAVIS (interrupting): Hell, what else can I do with it all? Betsy notices that the seal on the record has not been broken. BETSY: Travis, you haven't even played the record? TRAVIS (evasive): Yeah, well my stereo player is broke. But I'm sure the record is OK. BETSY: Your stereo broke? God, I could hardly stand that. I live on music. TRAVIS: I don't follow music much. I'd like to though. (second thought) Honest. BETSY (pointing to album): So you haven't heard this record yet? TRAVIS: No. (sly smile) I thought maybe you could play it for me on your player. Betsy's face backtracks a bit. Maybe she was wrong to go out with this fellow she doesn't know. She makes a polite laugh. LATER. Travis and Betsy are in TIMES SQUARE, turning the corner from Broadway to 42nd Street. Travis carries the album under his arm. They approach the garish marquee of a large midtown p**no theatre advertising "The Swedish Marriage Manual". The box office is flanked on both sides by gla** cages filled with explicit publicity stills. Offending portions have been blocked out with black tape. Travis steps over to the window and buys two $5 tickets. Betsy, befuddled, watches him. She doesn't know what to say. Travis returns with the tickets. Betsy still has not fully comprehended what is happening: BETSY: What are you doing? TRAVIS (innocent): I bought a couple of tickets. BETSY: But this is a p**no movie. TRAVIS: No, these are the kind that couples go to. They're not like the other movies. All kinds of couples go. Honest. I've seen them. Travis seems confused. He is so much part of his own world, he fails to comprehend another's world. Compared to the movies he sees, this is respectable. But then there's also something that Travis could not even acknowledge, much less admit: That he really wants to get this pure white girl into that dark p**no theatre. Travis makes an awkward gesture to escort Betsy into the theatre. Betsy looks at the tickets, at the theatre, at Travis. She mentally shakes her head and walks toward the turnstile. She thinks to herself: "What the Hell. What can happen?" She's always been curious about these pictures anyway, and - like all women, no matter how intelligent - she's been raised not to offend her date. A perverse logic which applies even more in offsetting circumstances like these. INSIDE THE THEATER Travis escorts Betsy to an empty center row. Travis was right. Couples do go to films like this. There are at least six or seven other MEN with their bewigged "DATES". Travis settles into his familiar p**no theatre slouch. Betsy looks curiously from side to side. ON SCREEN, a conservatively-dressed middle-aged woman is speaking in Swedish about importance of healthy s** life in a happy marriage. Subtitles translate her words. Then, without warning, there is a direct CUT to a couple copulating on a sterile table-like bed. Travis watches intently. The color, however, is slowly draining from Betsy's cheeks. One thought fills her mind: "What am I doing here?" TRAVIS (to himself): Damn. BETSY: What's wrong? TRAVIS: I forgot to get the Coca-Cola. That does it. Betsy just looks at him for a moment, then gets up and starts to leave. Travis, confused, hustles after her. He follows her out of the theatre. ON THE SIDEWALK Travis catches up with her. TRAVIS: Where are you going? BETSY: I'm leaving. TRAVIS: What do you mean? BETSY: These are not the kind of movies I go to. TRAVIS: Well, I don't follow movies too much... BETSY: You mean these are the only kind of movies you go to? The TICKET GIRL watches expressionlessly from the booth. TRAVIS: This is sort of high cla**... BETSY: I mean p**no movies. TRAVIS (hesitant): Well... mostly... BETSY: My God! TRAVIS: We can go to another movie if you like, I don't care. I got money. There's plenty... Travis gestures toward the long row of 42nd Street marquees, but is interrupted by Betsy: BETSY: If you just wanted to f**, why didn't you just come right out and say it? Travis is flabbergasted by Betsy's blunt language. His arm still gestures toward the marquees, his lips continue to move, but words do not come out. Unable to respond to Betsy's question, Travis picks up where he left off: TRAVIS: ... there's plenty of movies around here. I haven't seen any of them, but I'm sure they're good. BETSY: No, Travis. You're a sweet guy and all that, but I think this is it. I'm going home. TRAVIS (interrupting): You mean you don't want to go to a movie? (a beat) There's plenty of movies around here. BETSY: No, I don't feel so good. We're just two very different kinds of people, that's all. TRAVIS (puzzled): Huh? BETSY: It's very simple. You go your way, I'll go mine. Thanks anyway, Travis. TRAVIS: But... Betsy... BETSY: I'm getting a taxi. She walks to the curb. TRAVIS (following her): What about the record? BETSY: Keep it. TRAVIS: Can I call you? Betsy looks for a cab. TRAVIS (tender): Please, Betsy, I bought it for you. Betsy looks at his sad, sweet face and relents a bit. BETSY: All right, I'll accept the record. Betsy accepts the record, but quickly turns and hails a taxi. BETSY: Taxi! A taxi quickly pulls up. Travis feebly protests to no one in particular: TRAVIS: But I got a taxi. Betsy gives instructions to CAB DRIVER, looks briefly back at Travis, then straight ahead. Taxi speeds off. Travis looks around helplessly: A cluster of PEDESTRIANS on the crowded street has stopped to watch the argument. Travis looks back at the woman in the p**no theatre box office who has also been following the argument.