It was a dark and stormy morning on Friday, September 29, at 7 a.m. when Isy and Ava set out to do the impossible: deliver the fourth issue of The Stute across campus — a seemingly ordinary day transformed into an unforgettable tall tale of two girls braving the Stevens deluge.
The daunting feasibility of the task, coupled with questionable commitment to the cause, created a rift, “should we just let the papers wash out adrift?”
The courier missed the inlet, and with a quarter of the papers already wet, they sorted through what was left, upset.
“We’re already soaked,” Ava reasoned, “we can totally do it if you grab your keys and —”
BOOOOM. Thunder and lightning????? Are you kidding me?
Isy cried, and Ava sighed,
“It’s the storm of the year, how can we possibly steer?
Off of Wittpenn Walk we are going to veer!”
“The cart will make it down the stairs, if you grab that side.
Don’t worry, Ava! This inconceivable wind will act as our guide.”
And so the two friends set off.
The rain poured down with a ferocity that seemed unrelenting and with each step they took, their sweatpants got more soaked, making the journey feel like an uphill battle against the elements. As they trudged along the deserted paths, the clock seemed to mock Isy and Ava, ticking away the minutes, and transforming them into hours. What was supposed to be a quick delivery turned into a soggy operation that lasted over an hour and a half.
By the time they completed the deliveries around 9 a.m., Isy and Ava were soaked to the bone. Their clothes clung uncomfortably, and their hair was plastered to their faces. Despite the discomfort, a sense of accomplishment washed over them. They had faced the storm head-on and emerged victorious, with determination and teamwork prevailing over the dismal weather. Upon finishing the deliveries, Isy and Ava got swiped into the dining hall (thanks, Jiya) and took refuge from the cold, wet world they had just left behind and filled their tummies with grill line (Isy did not put egg in her sandwich).
At 9:23 a.m., The National Weather Service issued a flash flood warning demanding that no attempts at travel were made unless you are fleeing a flooding area. At the same time, Isy and Ava were sitting in the dining hall with shaken thoughts. Was that really a good idea? Did we really just risk our safety so that we wouldn’t miss a week of Friday deliveries? Are we being delusional?
The feeling they were experiencing was in fact delusion. Or, as one might say, deluge-ion. They knew they messed up and yet found it enjoyable to laugh at themselves. This resulted in them posting on The Stute’s Instagram story, where they did a combination of sulking, laughing, and throwing a pity party for two. Just because they were completely soaked, cold, and tired doesn’t mean they had to be miserable.
After retreating to their respective apartments, At 11:01 a.m., Stevens announced that the university would shift to remote operations for the remainder of the day due to dangerous flooding conditions. It was a bitter irony: Isy and Ava had braved the storm to deliver newspapers, only for the campus to shut down shortly after completing their mission.
In hindsight, the experience, though unpleasant, served as a bonding opportunity, with Isy and Ava finding solace in their shared struggle. In those moments of hardship, they forged a connection that transcended physical discomfort. While the rain may have drenched them, it also washed away their doubts, leaving behind a sense of achievement and the knowledge that they can overcome even the most torrential storms. While marinating in a blend of regret and amusement, they recognized their escapade as a lesson in balancing commitment with common sense. They recognized that the decision to bear the weather and still deliver the papers was not the smartest decision, but amidst the soaked papers and dripping clothes, they unearthed the power of laughter in adversity, embracing the absurdity of their situation and finding joy in shared misfortune. Their experience underscored life’s inherent unpredictability and nonsensical nature, teaching them that there’s a certain freedom in accepting that some things simply don’t add up, and the best response might just be a hearty laugh. There is no point in being terminally serious because, in reality, life isn’t terminally serious. They learned the liberating art of not taking oneself too seriously, finding resilience in humor and laughter, even when faced with life’s bewildering challenges. Their mantra, “Always remember to water your newspaper,” became a symbolic reminder of their shared resilience, friendship, and the unexpected wisdom that sprouted amidst the raindrops, inspiring them to approach life’s storms with a spirit of resilience, humor and, of course, a well-watered newspaper.
