You’re required to wear at least a Speedo at the Polar Bear Plunge, but screw the rules because when you do something, you do it 100%. Before the volunteer workers can say a thing you’re off, bounding bare legs in the water. Next thing you remember is a tattoo-sleeved, swim-capped army vet helping you to the lodge, grunting the whole way. He points you to the down blankets, marzipan cake and blackberry tea, a crackling fire. Without a word, he’s back out for round two, backstroking in the frigid water. You might be naked, but that guy came to play.
94 points, Jeb Dunnuck
