The grass is always greener...

... on the other side - BUT YOU STILL CAN'T FRISBEE THERE.

PROLOGUE:
The sun is out, and it is beautiful. Your hand holds another's - that of the most delightful (subjective, of course) girl (or boy) in all of Columbia (or Barnard) (probably not from SEAS. though) - and you stroll along to drop them off at their next class. You kiss, you depart, and you look to what's in your other hand - a Frisbee.

CUT TO THE PRESENT:
The situation is dire. You've been caught by the same security guy three times today, and your combo of badass shades and witty t-shirt means he won't forget you any time soon. You feel like a criminal, and you're treated like one - now get your ass off the lawn. Heck, one of those times was on Van Am quad - and frisbeeing Van Am sucks enough to begin with.

Until April 27th, your ass (or, well, mine) will be denied the basic right of Lebensraum in an (ironically) authoritarian fashion; perhaps to keep up appearances, they might wait until a tour group passes, or lighten up during Days on Campus - but until April 27th, when you are squarely effed by finals, you will not be able to enjoy the lawns scot-free.

Some may reiterate the tired tripe that "oh, Columbia is protecting the lawns, they're gonna get damaged, upkeep ehh wahh booo" - to which I (or rather, Benjamin Franklin) have a very pointed response: "They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety."

The meaning of this is obvious: bloodshed or not, the South Fields are and must be a battlegrounds for our liberty, our frisberty. While the administration may have us outgunned in the fight for justice, we would be no manlier (in a gender-neutral sense) than those very blades of grass, were we to lay down our arms now. The time is now, friends: give me frisberty, or give me Death.

BITCHES!