VERBATIM

I’ve always been against dress codes for waitresses. Maybe it’s the civil libertarian in me, or maybe it’s just that most restaurant uniforms, with their polyblend fabrics in colors not found in nature, look as if they were designed by a maniacal anti-fashion mastermind living somewhere in the bowels of Gotham City. But there is something to be said for dress guidelines-- last week, in the middle of a meal at a restaurant in Little Tokyo, I glanced at a passing waitress only to realize that she was wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with “I’m having a Maalox moment.”

Now, really.