AND we got extra sausage maple butter and biscuits...

My gorgeous and charming constant companion invited me to join her at the Black and Pink Ball last Friday night, a boozy fundraiser with a remarkably high douche factor. There was lots of pink silk neck ties and skimpy magenta frocks packed into Mezzanine, but we had a lovely time mingling, dancing and bidding on silent auction items. (Mel got a Sephora gift bag!)

Before the ball, we decided to grab a long dinner at Lark Creek Steak, Bradley Ogden's surprisingly fabulous steakhouse in the mall. 

Nothing beats those fabulous potato pancakes like a view of Illuminations. 

Anyway, we walked in together. Mel was instantly greeted by the bartender and a familiar looking server marched right up to me. 

"Oh my gah! (unintelligible) Es nigh see jew!"

"HIIIIIII!!!!!" I overcompensated. "Hey! Oh, wow!"

He looked at the bartender. "Ees my flen!"

Oh god, I know this guy from somewhere. But there's a lot of gin joints in a lot of towns and...

"This is my best friend, Melissa."

"Hello!" He shook her hand. "I'm Beektor."

He excused himself as Mel and I ordered drinks. 

"Who's your friend?" 

Nervously I responded, "I don't know."

"Beth, he took our coats!"

We giggled over our cocktails and were seated. I was racking my brain when recognition hit me. "Oh, Mel! I think I remember. It's Victor from Flytrap."

"Okay?"

"He was a server at Flytrap. I used to have dinner there a lot. You know, they have rose petals. Anyway, Flytrap. Definitely. Phew."

Victor returned and we chatted, as I was now able to inquire intelligently about our past. 

"So, you're not at Flytrap?"

Cue 7 minutes of me not catching one word.

More hugs. Gratis appetizers. We got our coats back. 

Now, I'm aware that I might come off as some elitist who doesn't remember the names of 'the help.' Screw you. 

They have names?

I had no idea...