Jersey City + White Mana Diner

This past weekend I decided that I would finally make the trek to Jersey City to see the White Mana Diner. The diner is a relic from the 1939 World's Fair, and I've known about it ever since I moved to New York and became obsessed with all things related to the two New York fairs. Add in the fact that it's a diner, and I have no excuse why it's taken me so long to pay it a visit.

This was my second time in Jersey City—both times I took the PATH train to Journal Square, which takes almost no time at all from the World Trade Center transit hub. Away from the waterfront, Jersey City is a little rundown, a little suburban and filled with interesting things. I guess I hadn't really realized that the diner was so close to the PATH train, but it was only about a twenty minute walk (I kept passing things tagged with "Noodles" which is officially my favorite tag).

The White Mana Diner is a tiny, circular diner that was marketed as the "Diner of the Future" during the World's Fair. This is usually the part of the post where I tell you the history and post loads of photos, but although I did go inside of the diner, I don't have many photos—in fact, I took zero photos inside even though the diner was theentire pointof my day. Here's why: I actually struggle a lot with taking photos in front of people, as silly as that might sound. I was so pumped to see (and eat at) the diner, and I even tried to strengthen my resolve on my walk, telling myself that I wouldn't be shy and that I'd get my photos.

But then, I walked into the diner and it's tiny and filled with locals. A man immediately turns to me, pats the stool next to him, and invites me to sit down, which I do. He starts talking to me—about astrology, World War II,  my nationality, Trump, Melania—and didn't stop the entire time I was there. I've definitely grown leaps and bounds in the past few years to the point where I can actually talk to strangers without wanting to die, but I still can't bring myself to whip out my camera and start shooting while all eyes are on me.

I beat myself up about it the entire walk back, feeling so dumb that I let my insecurities rule, but I have to remember that a few years ago just the idea of going to the diner alone would have been too much for me to handle. I have to constantly remind myself that the only photos I regret are the ones I don't take, that virtually no one really cares if I'm taking photos or thinks I look dumb doing so (except me), and that ordering one cheeseburger at a place famous for their sliders is a total amateur move.