Look who's back, back again, Tabak's back...

After an exhausting day I finally exited the SUV whose license plate said 'fresh' and had dice on the mirror to once again set foot on the terra firma that is Washington Heights. As I unloaded my mutliple accessories and was slowly trudging along I was assailed by a roving group of nasty locals. There was pointing, giggling, and even name-calling. And these weren't just any locals, with whom most YU-goers are acclimated, these were the worst of the worst, the ubiquitious brand of locals that have replaced the French during the summer's balmy humidity: post-Stern hockers. I tried to fend them off with wittiness and charm, but, alas! to no avail. I bid you all beware lest you all become attacked without previous provocation. YU-goers unite against this everpresent, growing menace! Where's security when you need them most?