We have no idea if this works, but you're walking down 57th Street today and have nothing better to do, feel free to give it a try and report back. "Want a impossible Babbo, Le Bernardin or a Waverly Inn resy last min (or any rest)? Easy and free... Go to the Four Seasons Hotel on 57th Street. Pick up a house phone ask to be connected to restaurant of choice. When restaurant picks up tell them you are calling from the Four Seasons Hotel for Mr "YOURSELF" and need a reservation for 2 or 4 or whatever. Tell the host at the restaurant that dinner will be quick for you have a art gallery show to attend which you can look up on www.artinfo.com. Has worked every time!" [Eater]

If you're the sort of magazine industry obsessive who looks forward to the first week of December when Condé Nast releases its holiday luncheon seating chart—wherein Condé overlord Si Newhouse either exalts or punishes his editors according to where he seats them at the Four Seasons, and with whom—you're going to have to wait until next year. The company's CEO, Chuck Townsend, informed staffers yesterday that the lunch has been canceled. Of course, you probably don't need a chart to surmise that if the lunch had taken place, Portfolio editor Joanne Lipman could have expected to nibble on her Cobb salad in the coat room. [WWD]

A tipster tells us that Google VP Marissa Mayer, who owns a penthouse apartment in San Francisco's Four Seasons, recently berated the staff there about how long it's taken to paint the lobby of the residents' entrance at the hotel-condominium complex, and stormed off before they could apologize. Oh, how nouveau riche, arriviste, tacky — is that what you're thinking? Think again! As bad as one might feel for the Four Seasons workers, one has to think Mayer's imperiousness has its plusses — at least for Google's shareholders.As vice president for search products and user experience, she's guarded against clutter on Google's homepage. And Google continues to seize market share from rivals who can't grasp the obvious lessons of Mayer's perfectionism. Memo to Marissa: We actually like you better when you're being bossy, not ostentatiously girlish. More tirades, fewer cupcakes, please.

♦ Sirio Maccioni is already looking at replacements for Le Cirque chef Christophe Bellanca. [Page Six]
♦ Julian Niccolini says says his customers at the Four Seasons aren't skipping power lunches because of Wall Street's woes, although they do seem to be ordering cheaper wines. [GS]
♦ The Eldridge's Matt Levine confirms the existence of laser-engraved admissions cards; he won't comment on whether Prince has ever turned up at the nightspot. [The Feedbag]
♦ A preview of what you can expect from Dovetail's brunch service, which starts this weekend. [GS]

• Julian Niccolini will begin serving breakfast at the Four Seasons. You'll have to wait until January, though, to pay $44 for a croissant. [NYM]

Where did John Edwards and Rielle Hunter have their first romantic interlude? At the Loews Regency Hotel on Park Avenue, which happens to be one of Edwards favorite hotels in town. (We're guessing, however, that the hotel's owner, Jonathan Tisch, won't be including this little fact in the official hotel brochure in the near future.) But Edwards isn't the only married man who picked the five-star property to carry on behind his wife's back. In 1997, former football star Frank Gifford—the husband of Kathie Lee—bedded nude model Suzan Johnson in suite 521. (Gifford later claimed a tabloid had set him up.) After the jump, a few of the hotels where some of the rich and powerful have cheated on their wives, stashed their goomahs, and/or ran up a huge mini-bar bill.

CARLSBAD, CA, BUT NOT AT THE FOUR SEASONS AVIARA RESORT — Was it something I wrote? I can't claim to have been minding my own business at D6, the Wall Street Journal's hoi-polloi-need-not-apply tech conference. After all, my business is to mind everyone else's. But I can't think what exactly I did was that outrageous enough to prompt Ryan Carter, head of security for the Four Seasons Aviara Resort, to ask me to leave the property altogether. (One of Carter's underlings had previously asked me not to venture into the conference itself, a request I respected.) No matter. Eight-D6-ed, unseasonably ushered out, I shall blog on. A bonus of the trip back to my hotel: I had the cabbie detour past the Palomar Airport, where rows of private jets were lined up. Photos of mogul transportation, after the jump:

A reminder: Marissa Mayer lives on the 38th floor of the Four Seasons Hotel in San Francisco, and you don't. With that address comes an unusual perk: Her own personal stoplight at Third and Stevenson. Mayer and the other residents of the concierge conclave have arranged to pay the city $165,000 for a traffic light at the dead-end street which leads to the hotel garage. (Remember that as you sit on a 9X Muni bus, waiting for the light to change.) Perhaps the light will make it easier for Google Maps, which Mayer oversees, to send a driver down Stevenson. Mayer has defended Google's Street View feature against charges of invading people's privacy — but Google's camera-cars have yet to venture onto her street. After the jump, minutes from the city meeting (PDF) accepting Mayer's gift:

Page Six reported today that PETA, in posession of stickers bearing Anna Wintour's trademark snarl, would be decorating the urinals at the Vogue editor's favorite locales. We put it to our readers to get outside and document the stickering — and, because the internet moves that fast, we've received proof of PETA's mischief (click to enlarge) at the Four Seasons. Doesn't Anna look completely at home in the urinals? We always suspected she was the type to piss standing up.