Being collegians, my roommates and I are thoroughly under the sway of the power of television advertising.
I mean, we'd like to say we think independently, because we're the new generation and we're supposed to be taking charge. But the fact remains that every single time we see a commercial for delicious food, we feel the need for it, stronger than Maverick feels the need for Speed.
Recently, we've been watching Man v. Food on the Travel Channel, and a previous episode included a challenge in which the host had to drink some stupendous quantity of milkshake. I'm sure it was in excess of a gallon, and he was supposed to do it in under thirty minutes.
I'm pretty sure I could do it. My roommates disagree. Psh, what do they know about milkshakes? I am the mayor of milkshakes.
Regardless, after that episode, we really, REALLY wanted milkshakes, 'natch. And why shouldn't we? Milkshakes are delicious desserts that are also drinks. That's a perfect combo, a one-two punch of dessert effectiveness. Look at them, staring us down with their ice cream and their maraschino cherries.
Milkshake skanks.
So we left our apartment in search of the elusive Milkshake, but we didn't get out until about 9 p.m. on Friday. No big deal, right? There are several diners in uptown Athens, at least one of them should serve milkshakes and still be open. At least they should be, in order to catch some drunk patronage.
I know what you're thinking. Go right to Sonic
they're open they're cheap. Yeah, well, if I wanted a chalky, cheap, fast-food shake, that is where I would go. I'm talking real milk and ice cream here, though. And Cold Stone is just astronomically out of the price range for a milkshake, I'm sure.
Our first port of call was The Diner on Court Street. I'm not sure if it has an official name, because that's all I've ever heard it called. Like that $3.95 Chinese place that's not $3.95 anymore, no matter how much everyone says it. But alas, to our misfortune and woe, The Diner was closed.
They are missing out on key business hours. Friday night, lots of people roaming the streets, too befuddled to properly count their money. That situation can lead to a five dollar tip on a cup of coffee. I've seen it happen.
Okay, Diner's closed. No big deal. There's a diner on Union Street, and all self-respecting diners have milkshakes. Everybody knows that. We staggered, zombie-like in our thirst for the Milkshake to scope out the scene.
If the Diner on Court is like the one in Back to the Future, the Diner on Union is like the one in Taxi Driver. It's darker and its decorations put forth less effort at cheerfulness and nostalgia, instead opting for the It's late come inside and eat something vibe.
This was the most awkward restaurant trip we'd ever made, and not because of anything the employees at the diner did. Unless you count Running a diner that doesn't serve milkshakes as something that they did wrong, and honestly, there's a case to be made there.
It would have been okay if we looked at the menu beforehand. Instead, we sat down and a waitress came over with silverware before we realized there were no milkshakes to be had. When she came back to take our order, we became those guys who turned out to not be customers after all.
I mean, you can just decide not to purchase something at Best Buy, but in a restaurant? We felt terrible.
Our quest ended unsuccessfully, our yen for milkshakes unsatisfied. Who knows if we'll ever get them. Who knows, indeed.
Nick Philpott is a junior studying playwriting and columnist for The Post. One of these days, something interesting will happen to him in Athens that is unrelated to local restaurants. Until then, e-mail him at np714907@ohiou.edu
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Opinion
Nick Philpott
