Kevin C. Carr

A JERSEY JAMOKE

It was 1:32 am E.S.T, September, 9th, 1992. It was my Dad’s 54th birthday. I’d see him in Jersey in about 8 hours if I was lucky. I had just finished eating my pork roll and cheese breakfast croissant, with classic Taylor Ham as the prime actor, at the Court Square Diner on 23rd Street, Long Island City, NY. Local Queens to all you discerning folk looking for a classic East Coast diner grub grab at the most unsavory of hours, as well as some cool cool coolio people eye watching vibes you can’t get anywhere else at that hour. A few blocks down from Astoria. But that didn’t matter too much in my state of mind. You’d be amazed at the amount of wild and wackazapple energy you’d find on any given occasion in NYC, especially when that occasion enlists the aid of the twilight hours between midnight and 6 am just across the East River from “The City That Never Sleeps”. I had just come off a 7 hour bender and I was burning hard and to the point.