Oh! How the mighty have fallen. Ladies and gentlemen, is this not one of the crappiest-looking, low rent, most cheesetastic web pages you’ve ever seen? It looks like something the most pompous steak house in Hill City, South Dakota would put up. Allow me to assure you that the degree to which you approve of this web page is inversely proportional to the degree to which you would enjoy Delilah’s. It is the one authentically glamorous restaurant in Vancouver; both Dorothy Parker and Princess Diana would have enjoyed it. And combining the two (which you wouldn’t think possible) Prince apparently likes it very much.

Now let me tell you a story about Delilah’s.

I’m going to assume you know the story of the original Delilah, the temptress who cost Samson his flowing locks and freedom. So the name has long been associated with disreputable hidden-agendoids, sexual temptation leading to tragic falls, important historical events, religion, politics, the rights of political prisoners, justice, nemesis and (most importantly) personal grooming.

So this story is kinda like that.

Now, in the old blog, RIP, I used to use pseudonyms for my friends. I was out to dinner with one of them tonight and he mentioned offhandedly that he liked the name I had given him in that blog. Damned if either of us can remember what it was, though, so I’ll just make up another one for him. Normally I’d use his real name on the new blog, but since he’s already known to thousands as “Whateverthehellitwas” I must continue from the basis of the precedent and call him “SomethingIpulloutofmyassbutdon’tgetthewrongideaaboutuswearejustfriends“.

Javier? Bob? Tarquin? *hits Yahoo.com quickly* JJ. It was JJ. Meh. I suppose I could go with JJ, or I could just make up something new. Samson. Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaah, Samson. Sampson? Yeah, I like that even better; there’s just something about a P. Not that.

Where was I? Sampson @ Delilah’s.

So there’s something you should know about Sampson/JJ. He’s really, really good-looking; he looks like the guy who should play Beethoven in the biopic if Beethoven were really, really good-looking. A mature Rilke, only like not dead and stuff. It’s hilarious to walk down the street with him; it’s like pacing alongside an extremely selective tornado, as about 15% of the straight women and 40% of the gay men he passes whirl around to take another look. I once took him to an art opening, and we had to leave because a sculptor was following him from room to room, arms outstretched with fingers a-quiver, mumbling, “that head…that head…” Ye-ah, kinda creepy.

So we went to Delilah’s one night with his then-partner Teddy. The waiter…noticed. Notably. After the warmup Martinis at the bar, we moved to a table and picked out our courses; Delilah’s has a list of courses, and you tick off what you want for each course. It’s a bit like a very hedonistic exam. Perhaps the Epicurians had finals like that? Eventually, the soup came, and the waiter very nearly did. It was thus:

I got my soup. I am a chick: nobody even looked at me except some of the older men with women slightly older than me. Looking to upgrade, I guess. Ickypoo. So, I got my soup without incident. Teddy got his with a bit of edgy hostility; waitroid clearly knew who was getting what he wanted to order that night. Then it’s Sampson’s turn.

Slosh, goes the soup, right into his lap. Fast as lightning, the waiter grabs a napkin and attempts dabbage.

“I’VE GOT IT! THANKS!” says Sampson, slightly quicker than lightning and blocking it with a wrist move I think he stole from Wonder Woman. Looked like it wasn’t the first time he’d had this extra-personal service.

The waiter slunk away, clearly disappointed. The manager was happy to serve our table the rest of the night.

Once, Sampson took me to the Alibi Room. After the meal we were still hungry, so he asked the waiter what did he have that was sweet and delicious, and the waiter replied, “You mean on the menu?”

That, Delilah’s staffer, is how it is done.