Roadside Journal

My date milkshake is prepared.

Stopping for a
date milkshake
in Dateland

By Chuck Woodbury

“Dateline: Dateland.” I just wanted to say that. I am, in fact, in tiny Dateland, Ariz., which is between Yuma and Gila Bend — effectively putting it smack dab in the middle of absolutely nowhere of any importance. My campsite is poolside at the Oasis RV park, which, in fact, is a true Oasis, surrounded by nothin’ but nothin.’

I stopped a little early today — at about 4 p.m. — figuring I’d catch up on my writing. What actually brought me here was the regionally famous date milkshake at the Dateland Village Cafe, a spotlessly clean eatery as green as a leprechaun. On a Hamilton Beach blender, my thoroughly pleasant waitress concocted the best date milkshake I have every consumed in my entire lifetime.

In the little gift shop next to the Dateland Village Cafe, I invested $3.50 in my second scorpion paperweight. The ingenious device consists of a dead scorpion entombed in a clear, circular-shaped plastic case for eternity. It is so well-built and sturdy that I am certain it will be around long after I’m gone. In fact, I think that when I die, I, too, would like to be entombed in a clear, plastic paperweight. It would be large, I grant you that, but it would be heavy enough to hold down up to 100 copies of the Sunday Arizona Republic in virtually all situations except perhaps a Yuma dust storm.

The Dateland Village Cafe also sells Date Creme Pie, which I bet is really good, too. Dateland, by the way, got its name because a lot of dates are grown here. I bet you already figured that out.

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