Stephen and I went to a new Italian restaurant that opened up in Liege a few weeks ago. We had Gracie with us, so we sat outside and enjoyed the cooler weather. Our waiter came up shortly after we sat down and brought us our menus. We had pretty much decided what we would have when the chef walked up. He started vomiting French words at us, and we were following pretty well, answering when questions were asked. I guess our non-local accents gave us away because here is what follows:
Chef: Ah, flems or allemagne? (Flemish or German)
Me: No, no, Anglais!
Chef: Oh, veally. Liverpool?
Me: (look of complete confusion...look at Stephen)
Stephen: (look of utter astonishment...why Liverpool, of ALL places)
Me: No, Texas. America.
Chef: Ah, America. Bon Appetit!
So random. Why Liverpool? We laughed so hard, trying to figure out why in the world he would have chosen that city. Then, Stephen looked at me and goes, "Liverpool plays Standard (soccer, Liege team) this weekend don't they?" It all came together...
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