This really was my fault. Having written a number of these posts, I think of myself as an expert at ridin’ the ol’ subway rails, and I thought that surely I could make it to the end of line that runs right past my apartment and head out to Rockaway Park Beach for a tiny last taste of summer. But wowed by the sight of Jamaica Bay out the train window and lulled by soft beachy names like Wavecrest and Edgemere, I didn’t notice that I was headed north in the Rockaways instead of south. And so I arrived at Mott Avenue, at what was decidedly the wrong stop.

Determined to make the proverbial lemonade out of the lemons of the MTA, I opted to stay where I was and explore the neighborhood I had landed in. I did, indeed, find some highlights: decaying Victorian mansions, a church called the Miracle Center (the boldness of which I respected), and a Little Caesar’s Pizza that mentally transported me straight back to fourth grade classroom parties. But aside from the Little Caesar’s, the culinary scene was looking somewhat bleak. I suppose I should have been asking the locals for advice, but frankly, most of them looked a little down on their luck and not really of a mind to be chit-chatting with me about lunch spots.

So I turned around and went back the only place that seemed like it was doing a brisk business in this neighborhood. In fact, Ralph’s Diner seemed as though it had as many patrons as all the other food establishments combined, and I had a hard time pushing in through the door past all the people lined up at the hot bar.

I won’t lie—the ambience at Ralph’s initially depressed me a little. Posters of random movie stars in sub-par films looked dimly at me from dusty frames. I backed away a little from Julia Roberts’ Mona Lisa Smile and ran into a man carrying an enormous tub of whole raw chickens that were speared and ready to be nakedly displayed in the rotisserie in the front window.

But once I was settled at the counter, things began to look up. The solicitous manager (Ralph himself, perhaps?) took good care of me, and one of his grill cooks fixed me up an omelet in record time. The omelet was…serviceable, the same tomato and pepper omelet that is landing, right this second, in front of diner patrons across the nation. But elbow to elbow with older men ordering “the usual” and hypnotized by the steady shushing wash of the fruit drink tanks, I felt like I was deep  in the familiar bosom of Americana.

Will I be returning? Let’s just say that some wrong paths really are just that. But as I made my way out of Ralph’s, past the chickens slowly beginning to brown, past the regulars regularing, I decided that no train stop should be without a reliable place like this and I was glad that Mott Ave. had its very own Ralph.

Ralph’s Diner. 2123 Mott Ave., Far Rockaway, NY 11691. (718) 327-9724.

Want me to take you to lunch? Send your End of the Line suggestions to Submissions@Pitchknives.com.