At Least They're Not Shouting At Me

Once again, as I walked home from work, through the rain that was quickly rendering my khaki skirt see-through, I heard the cries of "Boy-cott, Sai-gon-Grill." Except this time the person who handed me a flier was a young man of Asian decent, who spoke unaccented English, and was wearing a Columbia t-shirt. As I further perused the gathering crowd, it became clear that a majority of the protesters were Columbia and Barnard students.

Besides the obvious indicator of Columbia/Barnard spirit wear, there were some distinguishing signs.

1) They had actually made signs. Clever ones. Those in wage slavery don't usually have access to hot pink oaktag and sparkly pens. At least not in my experience.

2) The diverse ethnic makeup of the protesters. Not to be racist, but most delivery people in this city tend to be of Asian or South American descent.

3)The delivery people tend to be a bit older, let's say late 20's to mid-30's, while these young people looked about 12.

4) The organization of cries. Not just "boycott Saigon Grill" but also rousing jeers at those entering the restaurant, and several other clever cries that I cannot recall.

Nice to see that Columbia students can give back to their community. Although, as far as acts go, protesting for an hour or two doesn't seem like so much. Heck, maybe New York Magazine was right, and Columbians are becoming radicalized. Ha, yeah right. Anything being covered in New York Magazine is, by its very nature, mainstream. And lets be honest. When was the last time a movement at Columbia actually meant anything to the outside world? Oh yeah, 1968.

Good try guys, and while I applaud the effort, maybe you should stop flirting in the picket line. I'm just saying.