Vic or Van.

My friends and I were uncomfortably staring at our menus as the word vomit rained down on us from above. We'd been in the restaurant only about five minutes when the waitress had developed a special attraction for us.

Short with blond hair pulled back tightly into a pony tail, she reminded me of a younger, less refined Krstin Chenoweth. If Kristin Chenoweth was lonely, dressed poorly and lived in a small Canadian town.  "I should probably stop talking" she said, "you'll think I'm weird." "Where are you from anyway? I never see you around here. I know everyone around town. You must not be from here.". She didn't stay to find out where we were from. "I'll be right back," she said and then she disappeared back into the bar.

My friend Chad didn't know what to do; she hadn't stopped looking at him the entire time. The other two of us might as well not have existed. She was really into Chad.  Chad's boyfriend was amused. I wanted her to stop talking.

She ran off. A few moments later she returned with waters and said "I forgot to take your orders! I'm sorry! You must think I'm weird!" Then she looked at Chad and said "What do YOU want?" I started laughing ... "You do think I'm weird!" came out of fake-Kristen's mouth. "I'll be right back she said and then shot off across the dining room"

We were talking about this surreal experience when she returned. "Do you like Vic or Van?" she asked. "I prefer Vic" she continued ... much more relaxed and friendly. Van is too high strung...I never know where I stand with Van." We all looked at each other. Who are Vic and Van I wondered.

Chad quietly said, "we don't know either of them. We're not from here." She looked at him and started laughing..."Vic or Van...Victoria or Vancouver. Which city do you prefer? I prefer Vic. Van is too high strung and too diverse," she continued... "Of course both of them are too far away. And too big. We go to Kalispell for Costco and to Spokane for other stuff. Things are cheaper down there."

We laughed...because as gay boys, of course we prefer Van. We had just never heard them referred to that way before. While we were eating, Chad pulled out a note pad and pen and wrote Vic and Van down on his list of strange phrases and situations that we had experienced during the week.

A couple of weeks later, when I was in Vancouver for pride, I felt like an "in the know native" because I knew to call the city Van. If it weren't for that night in Cranbrook, with the crazy waitress, I would never have had that insider's tip.