The Stanford immigration officials treat us gently and sing lullabies as we file the appropriate forms.

Saturday.

Today is a good day. I have some trouble adjusting to the food since my digestive system has evolved to handle only chickwiches.

Stanford provides us with counselors who acclimate us to their culture and help us with the transition.

We spend the day in San Francisco touring the area. A tragedy occurs as we pass Alcatraz on a ferry. One student leaps overboard wailing, "Nooo, no more Loker!"

We spend the rest of the day talking to one another and enjoying some pleasure reading.

Sunday.

It's all over. The Ad Board's west coast agents have found us and the Stanford officials are powerless to save us all.

A few of the students decide it's better to die than go back. I cannot give in, though. I must survive in order to give the next generation a chance at freedom.

We are carted away, drugged by savory baked tofu and put in the cargo bay of a FedEx plane.

On the flight back the Ad Board broadcasts "Ten Thousand Men of Harvard" over the intercom and shows Crimson Key tour videos on screens until we either pass out or go insane.

I begin to plot my next escape and wonder how far away Brown is.

Baratunde R. Thurston '99 is a philosophy concentrator in Lowell House. His column appears on alternate Tuesdays.