Elizabeth Watson

Although not part of the Old Campus community, Pauli Murray first-years are tight-knit. We’ve bonded over lots of things: our proximity to Science Hill, our isolation from everything else and our indisputably glorious win in the water balloon fight against Ben Franklin at the beginning of the year.

However, there’s one quality of Murray that stands out among the rest, a quality that unites all of us in the age-old human tradition of making valiant efforts to thwart fate. It’s a question that’s asked every day with bated breath as dozens of students put their hearts on the line and dare, just for the briefest of moments, to believe. The clock strikes 5:00 p.m. and all eyes turn toward the dining hall as we ponder the answer to the question we all so desperately seek.

“Is the froyo machine working?”

For those who live in blissful unawareness of our plight, froyo is something of a white whale in the realm of Pauli Murray dining. A beloved white whale, certainly, but a whale nonetheless, one with a personality that bears a striking resemblance to McDonalds’ capricious ice cream machine. Alas, our machine is often broken. It makes a sad silhouette where it resides between the water dispenser and the bread station. Its silence is heart-wrenching, as it slowly but surely consigns itself to the edge of the lively atmosphere. There’s something quite sad about listening to the kitchen Spotify playlist when our beloved froyo machine cannot take in the vibes alongside us.

I myself have only enjoyed Murray’s froyo once at the start of the year, but even when the froyo is here, its glory is short-lived as fate would have it, our froyo is just as temperamental as the machine that brings it into our lives. By this, I mean that its creamy deliciousness has a sad proclivity for melting into soup within the blink of an eye, just like me after taking a midterm. A piece of advice: if you’re lucky enough to catch the machine on a day when it chooses to bless us with its fleeting generosity, get it in a cone. It helps delay the inevitable.

Oh froyo machine, how we treasure thee. You may not be operational for weeks on end, but when you do return to us, we still come flocking like the froyo-starved pigeons we are. Why do we partake in this game, froyo machine? Why do we never learn our lesson? It would be easier to forget about you and let the pain of your absence dull, so why don’t we just let you go?

Because our love for you is eternal, just like the name of the latest installment in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

ELIZABETH WATSON