Hairspray, Traffic Circles, and Diners (a.k.a. "How You Know You're in Jersey")

This has been a week of tributes to the fine state of New Jersey where I took my fast-paced and supercool social media marketing class at Rutgers University. On Monday I used a good amount of hair spray. On Tuesday I contemplated going to a movie (the nation's first drive-in theater was in Camden). Today is Wednesday and I am saluting diners.

If you live in New Jersey or have ever been there, you know that there is one diner for about every 10 people in the state. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration. But there are seriously a boatload of diners, and don't just take my word for it. According 50States.com, New Jersey has the most diners in the world and is sometimes glowingly referred to as the Diner Capital of the World. New Jersey is also home to the world's tallest water tower, however you can't eat there.

For some strange reason, I am a big fan of diners. Last week I went to two of them, one in Cinnaminson for dinner before my trek to Rutgers, the other in Piscataway for breakfast before my class. Truth be told, the food wasn't that great at either of them, and when I think about it, I'm not sure I've ever had a really good meal at any diner. This is probably why my high school friend Tom confessed, "I only ever end up at a diner after I've had too many drinks."

So what attracts me to diners if it's not the good food? I've narrowed it down to these three possibilities:

• The cool stainless steel exteriors with the neon lights
• The 27-page menus that offer everything except foie gras which I would never eat anyway
• The dessert cases you see when you first walk in the door

Who am I kidding? It's the dessert case. The interesting thing is I never rarely hardy ever get dessert. By the time I've loaded myself up with pancakes, hash browns, and bacon, or mashed potatoes and gravy, overcooked beef, rolls, and applesauce, there's just no room left for the good stuff. And for some strange reason I never rarely hardy ever buy something to take home with me.

So there you have it, my personal diner reflection. Perhaps tomorrow I'll dive into why so many of them are owned by Greek families (my new Rutgers friend Eva can possibly help with that one).

Now, please share with Freakin' Angel readers the best or worst diner experience you've had!