The Standard Grill, 848 Washington St., Manhattan

Making the most of every last sweet drop of Matt's unemployment before it dries up later this month, we met this morning to walk the new part of the High Line. It is just great. As with the last time I was there, I knew the experience would be likeable in the way that a visit to a pleasant place is likeable, but I was again surpised to realize that it does go above and beyond that. It is a legitimate destination just to admire the design. It also turns out that Matt is something of a botany expert. Who knew?

Our aim was for lunch and a beer afterward at the Standard Hotel's beer garden, in Chelsea, but we were informed it does not open until 4:00. So we enjoyed lunch at the grill instead. I had an "almost Cubano sandwich" that was very good, if a little bland, and an unhealthy quantity of the fries that came with Matt's lobster roll (reportely very good as well).

But what I will most remember are the humorous minor, yet plentiful, waitstaff mishaps. From the moment we sat down, our amiable waiter was returning to the kitchen a salmon dish he had served to a customer next to us, and we then were witness to salads being brought to us in error, a waiter on the verge of removing my not-yet-finished Standard 69 cocktail (which was, by the way, luscious), water droplets spattering everywhere when a bottle was placed on our table, and finally a coffee being brought to us in error (by a different waiter than the wayward salad man). I may even be forgetting some other foibles. We were good-spirited about it all and had a good laugh or five, but it was remarkable.

I was not intellectually equal to the challenge of determining which side of the restroom, curtained down the middle, was men and which was women. I stood at the curtain and looked wildly around for some clue and saw none, and a man washing his hands took pity and pointed me to the left. Thinking I must have overlooked some signage, on the way out I paused and searched again, and again came up empty. Matt informed me on my return to the table that the designations are actually on the floor. Sneaky. Very sneaky, Standard.