The Arties, the Triangle Team, and the Polar Bear Club

But no such luck. It seemed that all the Victors (including mine) had risen earlier than usual, and were already dressed in their Polar Bear/Triangle Team gear: swim shorts, sandals, matching polar bear t-shirts that my sister had given each of them for Christmas, and—well, nothing else. And so we packed up our car, dressed our kids in their hurricane gear and headed for Brooklyn. 

By the time we arrived at Coney Island, the rain was reduced to a mist and the temperature hovered in the low 50s.  The boardwalk was full of ersatz characters, from a guy dressed up like King Neptune (complete with makeshift mop wig and green face paint) to Tony Manero from Saturday Night Fever (this Tony had the white polyester suit and black shirt from the movie, but seemed to have been a little confused about the proper hairstyle, and sported a black Afro wig—“Yo, Ma!  Don’t touch the hair!”).  There were revelers from the previous night that were still dressed in their party outfits, holding plastic champagne glasses and wearing paper top hats. I spotted the leader of the Polar Bear Club—or at least, I assumed he was the leader, since he was the only one wearing a furry white hat that looked like a polar bear head. There were news cameras from all over the world, and a DJ spinning tunes. A writer from a Chinese-language newspaper took photos and interviewed the Victors, whose matching outfits had drawn his attention (to top things off, Victor Number Two had brought three electric-blue swimming caps).  The whole place was buzzing, and I was surprised to find myself caught up in the excitement. 

In addition to the Arties and their Victors, my niece and nephew were in attendance, one with a video camera and another with a digital camera. My cousin Gerry, and Tim, another family friend, showed up. My aunt and uncle, as well as Tim’s wife and two kids, were also present. Apparently, the Polar Bear fever had spread; we now officially had an entourage. The Arties and I were dressed like sherpas, wearing oversized and overstuffed backpacks, with towels dangling from around our necks, and children clutched in our hands. We slowly made our way on to the beach and waited for the signal for everyone to jump into the water. And then we heard the guy wearing the polar bear head hat blowing a conch shell. It was time.