By: Addie Lawrence and Elaine Best, Editors

Dashing through sprinklers in the dark of night, we scurry across campus in search of a printer.

We have fliers – artfully designed as a means of procrastinating – that need printing.

As the Old Gold and Black, no flier would be complete without our signature colors.

Unfortunately, every printer on campus seemed to be void of yellow ink.

In our journey from The Space to the library, each sprinkler seemed equipped with infrared tracking technology. As soon as we stepped on the converging sidewalks next to Old Main, the sprinklers lit up in a fury, sending down a cascade of water droplets that mirrored our desperation.

All we needed to do was print, to advertise the newspaper that we loved. Why was Wofford conspiring against us? Was freedom of the press on the verge of being oppressed?

When we finally arrived in the library, it was nearly empty, the lights flickering ominously as confused souls typed the last bits of their papers and prayed for a B-. We were unusually giddy and slightly damp, invigorated by the sprinkler battlefield. But when we tried to print our fliers, it was gray – not gold – that poured onto the page.

We were resolute. We printed pictures of frogs on the internet, and their colors came out vividly (this was a test to see if we could print in color at all, not an excuse to gather pictures of cute frogs and turn them into a wall mural). With the printer clearly working, it was obvious that we were the source of our own distress.

It was one of those nights where everything seemed to go wrong, and the minute details were preventing the completion of the whole project.

If there’s a moral to this story, it’s to remember to print images instead of PDFs. It’s to not wait until midnight to undertake a massive project. And it’s to enjoy the sprinklers when they come, because there’s something liberating about embracing the roadblocks instead of stumbling over them.