"Beware! Legions of Malay freshmen!"
A quick anecdote - an in-between classes thing - by YBLalat.

Yesterday after my Organic Chemistry lecture, as I walked into Lind Hall through its basement door, I saw a familiar brown face coming towards me in a hurry. Although I could not figure out who it was initially, because I was not wearing my glasses at the time, I knew it was Zack (a Malaysian peer of mine at the U) from his not so obvious disproportionate arm-to-height ratio and somewhat awkward manner of walking – with stomach thrusting forward. He recently braided his hair but I guess that in this scorching heat of summer, the ‘cool’ hairstyle doesn’t provide much comfort. He was rushing out of the building towards the door that I came in through and he was smiling a rather childish smirk when he saw me advancing towards him.

As soon as we were inside the conversation zone, just a few feet from each other, he raised his right arm and pointed it at the direction of the computer lab’s entrance in that building’s floor. I saw the long queue line and in it, freshmen that are still not brave enough to venture out and seek other U computer labs, waiting in line to use the PC stations. Every freshman is often firstly introduced to the U’s public computer labs with an introductory visit to the Lind Halls’ computer lab at the basement floor. Since that my previous class was nearest to that lab, I had no choice but to pay a visit.

Then, Zack yelled out loud into my right earlobes the words that kept me giggling the rest of the day. "Beware! Legions of Malay freshmen!" I walked a few steps ahead and saw the whole lot of them bastards. One group of three boys was figuring out how to use the vending machine using the U Card payment system to buy a can of Diet Coke, which later was shared greedily among them. Another group of two was loitering and chatting noisily near the Internet kiosk just adjacent to the lab entrance, probably trying to access weeks worth of emails since their departure from home. There were also two tudung-wearing girls (obviously Malays) nearby, but they were to busy queuing up to use the PC.

Realizing that this was an immediate potential for terror and shame, I took a sharp U-turn, made a screeching sound on the tiles with my shoes, and headed nonchalantly towards the nearest exit. As soon as I was out of the building, to my left, there was a group of Malaysian boys still, this time they were by their new bikes, parked chaotically on a vacant ramp. They were having an enjoyable lunch picnic on the grass with fast food burgers and cold colas each while savoring the quasi-porn sights of passing-by American chicks in their revealingly sexy clothes that summer noon. I pulled my bowl hat’s flap down a bit so that my face would be partially covered by the shade that it’d provide and rushed into an incoming traffic of people just finishing their lectures from the Mechanical Engineering building and headed home early and with stealth.