"Shake Day" Lives!

When I was in graduate school at the University of Chicago (1988-95), one of our favorite breaks on Wednesdays was to go to the C-Shop for “Shake Day”. Anyone who braved the extremely long lines could get a milkshake for a dollar.

Well, folks, today is Wednesday. My way home from my weekly blood draw took me right past the C-Shop (although I don’t know if it is still called that; it seems to be run by Einstein’s Bagels now). So I thought, why not? And YES! Students were plunking down their dollar bills and getting shakes in return. I joined them.

Things have changed. The shakes are smaller. The ice cream is pretty low grade, the proportion of milk has increased. No longer are shakes made to order; you get a choice of chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, or mint chip, sitting out on the counter. Crushed Oreos and multicolor sprinkles have joined the customary whipped-cream-and-vanilla-wafer adornment. Cherries are not offered. But you can still get a shake for a dollar on Wednesdays. This makes me happy. (I had mint chip.)

I wasn’t actually all that hungry, but I thought I could use the energy. My custom is to walk home from the hospital, about 1.5 miles. I knew it was a stretch today. I'd been ambling very slowly, conserving energy and going for endurance rather than speed. My handy-dandy cell phone app that displays the location of the CTA buses circulating through our neighborhood showed that I’d just missed one bus. I thought I’d give the walk a try.

It was a noble effort. I encouraged myself with thoughts about not being a quitter, about how I know how to get through challenges, about just plunking one foot down after the other. After about five long blocks, though, I sat down to rest. And I realized that discretion is, indeed, the better part of valor. I whipped out my phone again, checked the location of the next bus, and waited for it to arrive. Good move. I arrived home – still a three-block walk from the bus stop – extremely tired but not totally knocked out.