Your intrepid correspondent has, in the past, talked a big game about his winter swimming capabilities – but it’s only this year that I managed to make it to the Coney Island Polar Bear Swim on New Year’s Day. I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting – a few brave souls, a cadre of hirsute Russians warmed with vodka, a risque bather or two perhaps. What with the impending eviction of the soul of the Coney Island boardwalk (Ruby’s, Shoot the Freak etc.), it seemed that was the year to head down to the beach. And I was not alone in that sentiment.
