This "sun" makes me very warm so I strip down to my boxers, order a strawberry daiquiri and await a taxi. When in Rome...

Later that night I watch my favorite action movie, The Rock, and order room service massage therapy. I call my mother and tell her I'm staying in California if I can get immunity.

I want to check e-mail but fear The Board is monitoring the Internet for my whereabouts. I pray they aren't torturing my friends back East.

At 2 a.m. the guests next door are still partying and I wonder impatiently when the police will shut it down.

Friday a.m.

I had a nightmare that a resident tutor came to my room to break up the party next door. She was frothing at the mouth and yelling "not without my baby!!"

I now feel happy and relaxed until I look up and see a skywriter message for me. It says, "U will pay 4 your insolence" and is signed by "Rudy." I become nervous and seek political asylum at Stanford claiming student rights abuses.

Friday p.m.

I rent rollerblades and ride through Stanford's "sunny" campus in search of an embassy.

I am astounded by what I see. Someone says "hi" to me so I hit him. What's his problem anyway?

Another person told me to "have a nice day." I don't understand this language. It's all Greek to me. Must be all that "sun" affecting their brains.

In my search I observe that students not having sex in tree houses are smoking weed in front of Stanford's equivalent of Memorial Church or getting tans in the Quad.

Others engage in a strange activity called "playing." I'm having second thoughts about my decision to defect.

I find the Harvard refugee camp and get in line behind dozens of my schoolmates. Some are happy and dance. Others mourn the loss of friends who didn't make it.

Still more are afraid of the unnatural environment. Speaking in tongue and flogging themselves, they cringe from all the "sun."