It's hot and humid in NYC today. I'm stuck at school working on various projects, but the only place I want to be is at the beach on a surfboard, legs in the chilly spring waters and my gaze out toward sea in hopes of spotting an oncoming swell. I picture myself at 58th Street in Newport Beach, because the waves are a bit faster and crowds thinner (in numbers, not weight - though that also applies). A day at Malibu aboard a log would also be acceptable, except that the crowds border on hysteria. The numbers, the characters, the egos, the newbees. It doesn't matter if it's 1 to 2 feet or 5 to 6, for some reason the crowds flock regardless. It such a pristine, simple-looking wave, but when the size gets up there, it really is a place only for the experienced – though that will never be the case. Anyhow, as I sit in an air conditioned room, overlooking the mass of undergrads shirtless and pale in the quad area at Columbia University, know I'd rather be sunscreen'd and maybe a bit sunburned, with sand in my hair and the smell of salt on my skin.