It was a late Friday evening when Lorraine and I entered the diner on Old Country Road. Parking spaces were scarce but we managed to get a good one. In spite of the huge throng, we were seated immediately.

The menu arrived shortly thereafter along with a tray of challah, Melba toast, crackers and breadsticks with butter. Another tray of crisp celery, radishes and carrots was also set on the table.

We noshed on the breads and vegetables and we were amazed at how many people were dining and how the management kept everything under such good control.

As usual I ordered a la carte and Lorraine ordered the entire dinner. This is a "married people's ploy so that we can share and yet not overeat. This time it did not work at all.

Lorraine's entire meal consisted of a cup of matzoh-ball soup, followed by three of the largest stuffed mushrooms (enough for a main course), followed by a huge delicious, crispy Greek salad with tons of tangy feta cheese. I finished my Greek salad and my appetite was almost satisfied, and my main course was nowhere in sight.

Lorraine by this time was moaning that she had no place to put the main course. She had filled up on the soup, salad and mushrooms and she appeared queasy.

Our waiter, Danny, was a joy! He just kept bringing course after course and did it with grace and style. He foresaw every contingency and met it with speed and diligence. He was about 22 years old and very handsome.

When the two main courses arrived, we looked at each other sheepishly. I ate about 1/3 of my fish dish (stuffed flounder). "No way could we eat anymore. Danny, please wrap up all this uneaten food and please bring us two coffees and Lorraine's dessert." There is always room for coffee and dessert. That is a given.

Danny wrapped up all the food carefully in tins and Styrofoam. We eventually left with two large grocery bags filled with food for the rest of the month.

When the check arrived, I thanked Danny and told him he was the most professional waiter I had ever encountered. I asked him where he was from because I heard a slight accent in his speech. "El Salvador" was his reply. I over-tipped him not only for his serving abilities, but he was an excellent "packager."

I was very pleased to see how well a newly-arrived immigrant was fitting into the daily life of America. It made both of us feel proud.

It was an extraordinary "Friday Night at the Diner."

If you want to know the name of the diner, please use the e-mail address on top of the column.

I will answer you forthwith.