A true story about lives in Vancouver, BC. Written for Duffs writting challenge.
This is a true story. It took place in the very early 1990’s. I had left my family in Alberta, and was living in Vancouver, BC. Although this port city has been described as beautiful, I found it to be a showcase of stereotypes. A shocking reminder that the rich are out of touch with the poor. Those who lived in the ivory towers overlooking the ocean had no idea what went on in their own city.
I lived there for about five years and worked as a waitress. I was in my mid twenties and of course wore appropriate waitressing clothing, skirt and shirt, shoes with a low heel, for God’s sake I was not killing myself in stilettos. I had finished my shift and was coming home. It was a hot summer night, I had a can of orange crush.
I parked on the street, for some reason at the apartment where I lived the automatic garage door opener wasn’t working or I would have parked inside as usual. Other than a few apartment buildings the area was rather residential and looked nice enough.
I had to walk a short distance to get to the building, in fact really all I had to do was to cross the street. This proved more difficult than I would expect. An old style van pulled up and the three male passengers made a play. Usually when this sort of thing happens they at least ask if you are working or if you are a working girl. When that would happen to me, I would just say “No” and leave it at that. For some reason, this incident was different. Perhaps it was because there were three of them, perhaps because it happened so close to “home”, or perhaps it was because I was tired. When the van slowed down, silly me only assumed it was to allow me to cross the street in safety. Instead they yelled out something like “How much”. They didn’t even have the common decency to ask if I was working or not.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/ryanjunell/382523918/ My neighborhood needed a sign like this.
Forbidden love, my friend, forbidden love, and I went nuts. I walked with absolutely no fear towards the van. Yelling like a mother protecting her young. I was furious at the insult (some might call it a compliment, but believe me it is not flattering). I do not remember my exact words but it was enough to put the van into a tire spin. The driver was in a hurry to get out of there. I chased him and nearly threw my drink at the fleeing van, but why waste a good drink?
I left Vancouver the first chance I got and although I miss the smell of the ocean, I have never been back.
There’s always the east coast! 
(I live in Saint John.)
That would have definitely been disturbing. I, for one, have never even been vaguely mistaken for a prostitute. I can’t imagine what that would feel like at all. o_O
Brava for being able to stand up to them and scare them off like that! The fact that they took off so fast makes me laugh. Bunch of cowards. Fortunately for you, though, as they could have turned out to be the type that would rape you for telling them off like that….
PS: That sign is rather disturbing…
PPS: This is really well written! (Thought maybe I should actually comment on that, you know?)
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