I really don't care all that much about the annual polar bear plunge on the first day of the year at Bradford Beach. The idea of stripping down and running into a freezing lake, dunking yourself and then having your friends warm you up while they laugh like crazy just has never had much attraction for me.

But this year I got caught in a traffic jam out in front of the pavilion just about as the dunking was to take place. Traffic came to a total stop as people craned their necks to watch. I couldn't go anywhere, so I got out of my car and took a look.

The lakefront was jammed and the polar bears seemed ready and eager to get going. There was shivering everywhere. These people are like boxers. They do the fighting and they have people in their corner doing all the support work.

I was waiting for the gun or Klaxon or whatever, when I saw a woman walk toward the lake. She was wearing jeans and a gray hoodie. She was all alone.

She stopped and slid off her jeans and her hoodie and stood there in a jet black bikini. Let me say without fear of contradiction that she was a real attention getter. She just stood there, barefoot.

Then the stampede began and she ran with the others into the water. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She dunked herself under the water, turned and walked out. She got to her clothes, still barefoot, put on her jeans and hoodie, and walked away to the south.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't come up with what her story was. There must have been one, but I was at a loss for words.