(MONEY Magazine) – Jules Kabat was delighted. The maitre d' at the Ivy, one of the haughtiest of haute cuisine hangouts in Los Angeles, had seen fit to seat Kabat, a local lawyer, and his three companions next to the antique federal fireplace. Suddenly one of his guests began sneezing uncontrollably -- an allergic reaction to the huge vase of flowers on the mantel. ''First we asked for another table but were told there was none available,'' recalls Kabat. ''Then we asked if they could please move the vase, but they refused: the flowers were part of the ambience, they said. Finally we walked out, livid'' -- and unfed. Restaurants noted for their h'ordeals rather than their hors d'oeuvres are becoming an increasingly familiar facet of urban life, reflecting the rise of dining out and the deathly decline of common courtesy. But even these noxious - trends are not enough to explain the atrocities being visited on Americans at many expensive restaurants, particularly in such status-conscious cities as New York, Washington, D.C., New Orleans, Los Angeles and San Francisco. Those cities, where the richest, most powerful and most celebrated tend to congregate, have spawned a class of restaurant that shamelessly favors the elected elite to the point of barely tolerating the rest of us. The sole tribute to equality: everybody gets to pay the same heliumed prices, which can easily exceed $100 for two for dinner, drinks, tax and tips. Consider: -- Scott Kaufer, a Warner Bros. executive, tried to hedge his bets before dining at Peppone's, an Italian restaurant in West Los Angeles notorious for overbooking that results in waits of up to an hour at its small, crowded bar. Kaufer's secretary was assured on the phone that there would be no wait -- especially since there was a pregnant woman in his party. ''We arrived at 8:33 for an 8:30 reservation,'' Kaufer explains, ''and were told another 8:30 party arrived before us. We had to wait 30 minutes.'' -- Steve Gelman, a New York City publishing executive, reconfirmed his reservation in the afternoon and showed up on time for dinner at Cafe Argenteuil, which dispenses nouvelle cuisine to movers and shakers in publishing and the arts. He and his guest were shown into a tiny alcove. One hour later, with no apology, they were given a table. Says Gelman: ''What ruined the night was the pretension of making us reconfirm and then treating us as if we were lucky to be permitted to pay our $150 bill.'' -- Ted Savaglio, a CBS News executive, reserved a table for four at Manhattan's Cafe Luxembourg, a French-inspired bistro on the nouveau-chic Upper West Side. Finally seated after waiting 45 minutes, he asked for the special -- salmon with oyster sauce ($23) -- without the sauce. The waiter said no. Savaglio then asked for the chef. No dice. ''Finally,'' says Savaglio, ''the maitre d' came over and said, 'Look, you're not happy here, and we're not happy with you here, so please leave.' '' Restaurateurs are not without their special pleadings and excuses. Says Cafe Luxembourg's manager and co-owner Peter Stephan: ''We'll change any dish on the menu for people, but we are strict regarding specials. The chef spends hours combining the right sauces with the right meat or fish and is insulted to have his work altered.'' What constitutes haute-y treatment? Phyllis Richman, restaurant critic for the Washington Post, lists three sure signs: ''A place that obviously plays favorites; a place where the staff act as if they're doing the customer a favor; a place where complaints aren't taken seriously.'' Says Bryan Miller, restaurant critic for the New York Times: ''I find people complain most about getting the rush while they're eating or being made to wait a long time for reservations.'' Miller definitely notices an increase in the haute-y syndrome in Manhattan; he now has a hefty file called Gripes. As readily as such behavior is accepted in the coastal power centers, the U.S. at large seems blessedly resistant to the virus. A test of sorts occurred last winter when Joan Rivers and three friends walked unannounced into the New French Cafe, a thriving Minneapolis bistro. Rivers, used to being swept to a top table back home in Los Angeles, was turned away. Explains co-owner Lynne Alpert: ''We wanted to accommodate her, but we were jammed. Our staff has been given strict instructions -- no playing favorites.'' Disgruntled diners do have some favorites, though -- a small number of restaurants that large numbers of people love to hate. Based on dozens of interviews with customers, restaurateurs and restaurant critics in major cities, here is MONEY's roster of the half-dozen rudest restaurants in the U.S., in descending order of outrageousness, which we define as rudeness plus cost:

MORTIMER'S New York City

Style: Casual-elegant; simple dishes: rack of lamb, grilled salmon and grilled quail Dinner for two with wine, tip and tax: $100 Complaints: Although officially the restaurant does not take reservations, nonregulars get stuck with unswerving regularity at the small bar while tables sit empty awaiting the arrival of such regulars as Bill Blass, Malcolm Forbes and Gloria Vanderbilt. ''When I called, they told me that we'd have no trouble at 7:30,'' recalls lawyer Mathea Falco. ''We were sent to the bar for an hour and 45 minutes. There were plenty of tables but when we asked repeatedly, we were told they were being held for special people. It was an enraging experience.'' The coup de grace: when they were finally seated, a basket with one piece of bread was placed on the table. ''They said they were out,'' says Falco. Obviously, the kitchen is not the attraction. Snorts New York Daily News restaurant critic Arthur Schwartz: ''If you want to be treated with deference, why go where you're an outsider? It's not for Mortimer's rotten food.''

Response: Owner Glenn Bernbaum prefers to describe Mortimer's as ''clubby.'' He reasons, ''I'd think it would be very pleasant for outsiders to see how a close New York group behaves.'' Although he takes reservations for five or more, Bernbaum admits, ''I also hold tables for people I know and like. My policy is if people are known to the establishment or are particularly attractive additions to it, they get preferential treatment.''

SPAGO West Hollywood

Style: Ultramodern chic; imaginative pizza and pasta specialties Dinner for two with wine, tip and tax: $80 Complaints: Famous faces, such as Frank Sinatra, Angie Dickinson and Elizabeth Taylor, are treated adoringly, while everyone else waits, and waits and waits -- for service that can be contemptuous. ''If they don't know you, you're either seated in the parking lot or on top of a hot broiler, and the food is practically thrown at you,'' sums up Time magazine food writer Mimi Sheraton. ''The complaints are rife about noise, rude service and reservations for celebrities only,'' according to the Zagat Los Angeles restaurant survey, a guide that polls customers' reactions. Spago takes reservations but long in advance and seemingly only at nontrendy times. ''Before I could get two words out, the voice on the line said 6:30 or 10:30 only,'' says Los Angeles Times media critic David Shaw. ''I kept trying new nights but got the same answer.'' Larry and Meryle Gellman of Los Angeles made their reservations weeks in advance and agreed to 6:30. ''The place was half empty, so we asked for a window table,'' says Larry. ''They said no. And the tables remained empty the entire time we were there. When I complained, I was told those tables are held for special customers. The tone was like a slap in the face.''

Response: General Manager Tom Kaplan says: ''Sometimes regulars call us at the last minute and because we have to give them priority, others may have to wait. But we think people can enjoy waiting here because they can watch the people come in, and they can watch ((chef-owner)) Wolfgang ((Puck)) cook.''

THE IVY Los Angeles

Style: Indoor-outdoor; California cuisine: mesquite-grilled tuna, crab cakes and chicken tandoori with mangoes Dinner for two with wine, tip and tax: $100 Complaints: The restaurant is run too rigidly; often the staff assigns diners to specific tables as they reserve. This practice results in rushed service and a lack of care about customers' comfort. ''I get more angry letters about the Ivy than any other restaurant,'' says Los Angeles Times restaurant critic Ruth Reichl. ''What people get mad about most is feeling rushed.'' Reichl relates the sorry tale of a party of four with a 6:30 dinner reservation. They were celebrating a birthday but were told that they could have their table for only 1 1/2 hours. The waiter told them they could have their coffee on the patio. But when zero hour arrived the waiter was nowhere to be found, and the busboy clearing the dishes declined to bring them coffee, even on the patio. KCBS-TV news executive Michael Singer recalls the night his party was seated outside even though it was drizzling and there were empty tables inside. ''When I asked for one,'' he says, ''I was told you must let them know in advance if you have a preference.''

Response: Seating problems can occur, says Ivy co-owner Richard Irving, when the weather changes suddenly. As for people being rushed, he argues, ''It may be because we ask that they order their appetizers and main course at the same time; and if they've requested a specific table, we tell them when we'll need it.''

K-PAUL'S LOUISIANA KITCHEN New Orleans

Style: Very casual; rich, spicy Cajun cooking Dinner for two with drinks, tip and tax: $80 Complaints: A no-reservations policy and informal surroundings ordinarily bespeak down-home friendliness. But not here. After a long wait in line in the street, customers face service that can be abrupt and haphazard. And though supposedly everyone is on equal footing, those with connections are far more equal. Grayce Baldwin, a Los Angeles caterer, arrived at K-Paul's at 4:45 p.m. to be seated when the doors opened at 5:30. ''There were six of us, but we were given only two menus,'' she recalls. ''When one of us reached for some more, a waitress barked, 'We only give two per table.' The food was good, but there was no graciousness or hospitality. Two out of three checks were off -- one had a $10 overcharge -- which they acknowledged but didn't apologize for.'' K- Paul's has also been notorious for allowing favorites and celebrities to bypass the long lines.

Response: Says manager K Prudhomme, wife of the 350-pound celebrity chef Paul: ''We make no pretense about being anything but a community-style restaurant. Everybody waits in line and strangers are seated together.'' When asked whether regular customers or celebrities get special treatment, however, she concedes: ''Early on we gave out about 80 cards for immediate seating to people who were our first support. They're still valid. And sometimes we let famous people bypass the line so they won't be noticed or bothered.''

CAFFE SPORT San Francisco

Style: Casual trattoria; hearty Sicilian cooking Dinner for two with wine, tip and tax: $40 Complaints: Another place where informal family-style service is a pretense to herd the diners through a high-turnover factory. ''If you like abuse, this is the place to go,'' sums up the Zagat survey. MONEY correspondent Katie Brown and a friend decided to see for themselves. On the phone Brown was told to arrive early for the 6:30 seating since reservations for two are not taken. There was already a line outside when they arrived at 6:20. They decided therefore to merge with another couple and were seated shortly past 6:30. After the four ordered, the waiter announced that he would bring everything on platters for sharing but didn't explain further. Brown's companion and one of the other people both ordered scampi, and both orders showed up on the same platter. So the four wound up with three different dishes. ''If we'd known that, we would have ordered differently,'' recalls Brown. ''Meanwhile, I heard the people next to us ask for more grated Parmesan cheese. The answer: sure -- for $3.50. We practically had to tackle the waiter to get him to take our wine order, but when it got close to 8:30 we suddenly saw him every few minutes, closing in to remove our plates. He told us there was no time for coffee.''

Response: Says Caffe Sport co-manager Antonio Fillari: ''We don't kick people out, but I think two hours is enough for dinner. There is time for coffee and even conversation, but we do need the tables at 8:30.'' As for the high cost of that extra Parmesan: ''We put a large amount on every dish so you pay for extra.''

AV RISTORANTE Washington, D.C.

Style: Funky, popular trattoria; specials include standard veal and seafood dishes Dinner for two with wine, tip and tax: $35 % Complaints: Too few waiters result in haphazard or curt service for all but favored customers. Phyllis Richman, the Washington Post restaurant critic, did not hesitate when asked to nominate the rudest restaurant in town. ''AV. It's a Washington classic, where people put up with the worst kind of service. I once had a virtual oil slick on my water. When I pointed it out, I was told, 'It's supposed to be like that.' '' Even fans of the place, like Tim Dombro, a video promotions coordinator, admit the service is inattentive. ''I've been left alone for 20 minutes at a stretch,'' he says. C-Span technician Margaret Doyle is not a fan. Reason: ''My party arrived at 7, and we got our appetizers at 8:50. We had a show to catch, and kept asking about our food. We were always told, 'coming, coming.' At AV you feel you're doing them a favor.'' If you prize basic, moderately priced Italian cooking, it helps to know the Vasaio family that runs AV Ristorante. Regulars get better treatment, some get special dishes and a select few earn the family's endearing (but mildly insulting) greeting, ''Hey, buffone ((Hello, clown)).''

Response: ''We're a trattoria, which means we're not pretentious,'' explains AV manager August Vasaio, who denies playing favorites. ''Because we like to keep our food affordable, we don't have a maitre d', captains and high-priced servers. Our food and our prices are our priorities.''

BOX: There are steps you can take to head off -- or penalize -- rude service. MONEY polled restaurant reviewers in five cities for their most effective ploys: Before you go, you can: -- Name drop. When you call to reserve a table, mention the names of acquaintances who are valued customers of this restaurant. It works. Really. -- Gently threaten. When you reserve at a restaurant with a reputation for keeping people waiting, raise the subject yourself. Relate any bad experience you may have had. Then say simply, ''Don't do that to me.'' When you get there you can: -- Tip the maitre d'. Sometimes bribery is a necessary evil. ''This is essential in a hot restaurant,'' says New York magazine's Gael Greene. On arrival, discreetly palm $10 or $20 -- depending on the size of your party and the class of restaurant. -- Send back unsatisfactory food. Do so politely but firmly. -- Let your waiter know if he is less than polite. ''I ask the waiter if he's an actor,'' says the New York Daily News' Arthur Schwartz. ''They're always % flattered. Then I say, 'Well, would you mind acting like a waiter tonight?' '' -- Call over the maitre d' or manager if a situation can't be resolved between you and the server. This usually gets positive action, if your case is justified and your attitude reasonable. -- If your complaint about poor service is not satisfied, don't tip. After you leave, you can: -- Never go back. -- Write a clear, unemotional letter of complaint. Says Greene: ''I can't imagine a restaurant not inviting you back, perhaps as their guest. Some very nice relationships have started that way.'' -- Send copies of the letter to local restaurant writers. Some may call the restaurant; most will at least file the letter for future reference. Best advice of all: don't go even once. Offensive restaurants do not monopolize the supply of first-rate food, sumptuous surroundings or beautiful people. Some of the most revered restaurants -- the Four Seasons and Lutece in Manhattan, L'Hermitage in Los Angeles and Commander's Palace in New Orleans, for instance -- are famous for their graciousness as well as for their gastronomy.