An Ode to the Budd Lake Diner— RIP

End of an Era

The worst part of life is death. Profound, right?

Maybe some Greek philosopher chiseled that into stone or I heard Tupac rap about it, but it's true.

Typically, though, it's the death of a loved one, or worse, in my case—a cat. But every once in a while, something else comes to an end, and the loss hits you harder than you ever imagined it would.

Not because of what it was, but because of what it represented. A point in time. A reminder of a younger version of yourself that you can never quite get back.

Yesterday, I learned that the Budd Lake Diner is closing. And with it, a little piece of my past died.

It's odd because I haven't been to the BLD in at least ten years. Apparently I'm not even following them on Facebook, but I always thought fondly of it whenever I raced past on Route 46. And it was always a name I'd slip into every "Top Jersey Diners" conversation, albeit with the qualifier—late 80's thru early '90s.

But when my buddy forwarded me the Facebook post announcing the closing yesterday, a knot formed in my stomach.

It was like hearing that your childhood best friend, someone you hadn't spoken to in three decades, had died.

It stung.

I developed my caffeine addiction there. Ate my first-ever disco fry there. I even saw a stray boob being flashed in one of the back booths.

Always Hold The Tomato- Even in August

I ate bacon, onion, and American cheese omelets for breakfast with my parents and happy waitresses with no tomatoes with my girlfriend.

And drank cup after cup of coffee with friends, just to keep the night from ending.

I drove those same drunk-ass high school friends to the diner after nights of drinking in the woods—I didn't drink until I was 21. And a few years later, I was the one sobering up after a night of Morris County bar hopping.

I crushed on a redheaded waitress who I imagined was a much older woman at the time but, in reality, was probably like 26.

Did I mention the boob?

Psychologists say the formative years are typically birth through age eight.

Top 5 Diners

Not for me. The Budd Lake Diner years are what formed me.

At least three nights a week, from sixteen until I went away to college my junior year, those sticky booths, torn vinyl seats, and the constant clatter of dishes and conversations were my second home.

So, here's to the Budd Lake Diner. The late nights, bottomless cups of coffee, French fries, and all the memories I never realized I was making.

Next time I bite into a turkey club, I'll let a little mayo drip for my homies.

Rest easy, BLD.

You'll be missed.