A Quarter Century Of Swimming With The Coney Island Polar Bear Club
A Quarter Century Of Swimming With Coney Island The Polar Bear Club
“I see
your point Sir, but even under that worst case scenario I'd never
blame you or the job for the leaps and bounds of stupidity I engage
in off duty. If I dressed down and went for a dirty water dog on my
lunch hour, nobody would know or care now that my arrest paperwork
has been finalized.”
"The problem is you're technically
not off duty,” barked the Sergeant. “This is why you must report
exactly where you're taking your meal break and make hourly rings to
the Desk Officer overnight"
"But, Sir, if I had just
strolled outside nobody would even notice. It's New Year's morning
and the streets are dead. There's practically tumbleweed blowing down
Surf Avenue," I said while pointing to the street behind me.
"Growing up nearby, I've waited years to take the famous Polar
Bear Plunge on New Year's Day, but have never been in the right place
or state of mind to get down here so early. Now, I'm actually awake,
sober, down the block from the event, and I happen to be wearing my
holiday boxers and have an old blanket and a towel in my locker.
Plus, I've heard Officer Healy swims as well. This can be the start
of a wonderful new era for the command. An NYPD chapter! A movement
if you will, Sir!"
While rising from his desk, the Sergeant
approached me still standing at his door, shook his shiny bald head,
and put his hand on my shoulder, "Look kid, if you're done
processing, let me talk to the Desk Officer and see if we can get you
lost time to go kill yourself."
Lost time, within the New
York Police Department is when an employee takes a "partial"
and uses a portion of the hours from his vacation bank. It is not a
gift from the city for being a swell guy, or making the rookie error
of effecting an arrest on New Year's Eve and sabotaging the next 12
to 30 hours of your life with bare bones in-house assistance, for a
case that will eventually not be prosecuted because of an
uncooperative victim.
Compounding the problem is New Years
Eve- the largest outdoor public safety event on the planet. Nobody
gets a discretionary day off in the NYPD, especially a cop with the
least seniority, working the least desirable shift on the
planet (8pm to 4 am). In fact, for anyone with a lapse of judgment considering
employment with the NYPD, get used to a life of poorly managed
staffing protocols, intentionally designed to lower morale and
dissuade employees from utilizing their contractual time off, or even
calling in sick.
But occasionally, the right people, in the right place, with the right backbone pull through against a wrecking ball of inefficient bureaucracy. Within the next 30 minutes I was stuffing my blanket into a shopping bag and exiting the station house with an ear-to-ear smile.
Walking up the ramp onto the boardwalk was a very different affair from the event today. The only sounds heard before noon was the low pitch hum of the winter winds through the steel of closed amusement structures. There were no news trucks with satellites, no costumed spectators, no DJ's, no marching bands, nor volunteers in safety vests and bull horns distributing diplomas upon swim completion. Ruby's famous boardwalk saloon did not open for the event, nor was the large restroom pavilion yet built.
Before noon, other boardwalk arrivals rummaged about looking for a spot to huddle out of the wind. I squatted against a rolled down metal storefront gate, draped in the old blanket. Though the weather was mostly cloudy, the sporadic sun provided relief from the north wind. Roughly three dozen swimmers and one hundred athletic supporters eagerly awaited the arrival of the elders to corral the group of poorly dressed thrill seekers chugging beer and partying like it was 1999.
Eventually the old guard appeared, and indeed many were old. During the last century, the tradition of the swim was preserved by a dedicated clan -generally older than my current age- braving the ocean each Sunday for the duration of the winter season. The Polar Bear Club swam for spiritual enrichment with limited fanfare for nearly 100 years before going viral in the digital age. Back in 1999, The Polar Bear Club gathered, rain or shine, without digital promotion or the assistance of 'influencers.' On New Year's Day they strolled up the boardwalk, banner in hand, wearing their organization's colors, and they were consistently friendly to the crowd, despite far fewer bikini clad participants as seen today. Amidst the growing masses, The Coney Island Polar Bear Club has consistently maintained a tone of safety for the uninitiated before, during and after the swim.
At 1pm club members made the announcement that the swim would commence, and after some customary stretching exercises, into the drink we proceeded. Entering slow and bouncy, the salt water felt like liquid shards of glass smashing under foot, then into the thighs, then slowly up the groin and rising. The most acute sensation is experienced on the lower back, as the nervous system responds with the uncontrollable rising of the shoulder blades, followed by many short bursts of inhaling. By then, swimmers are poised for the shock of what 35 degree ocean water does as it saturates the torso. By the time the chest is immersed in enough frigid water to put a person into shock, the cheering of comrades increases and endorphins kick in. By now swimmers see others in the same situation and the discomfort suddenly subsides, becoming replaced by the shared exhilaration of the event. Steady cheering amps participants and the ceremonial high fiving and hugging of strangers ensues. From here, at about the four minute mark, roughly 75 percent of the swimmers have exited the water and are being celebrated and draped in garments by their landlubber brethren. But the seasoned swimmers do not budge. As the swimming crowd thins, the cheering onshore rises, and the remainder of swimmers interlock hands and form a circle, extending well wishes, and checking in on the status of new faces.
By the six minute mark, as inflatable beach toys are tossed around, the marching band can be heard on the shore above the cheers of exiting swimmers, their rhythmic drumming arousing parts of our primordial DNA. In later years- as the attendance swelled from a few hundred to tens of thousands- the musical rhythm now inspires dried off swimmers to toss their towels and reenter the ocean for a second dip!
2010 2022
The tingling of body extremities starts turning to numbness at about the eight minute mark. Swimmers are now approached by Jedi-minded volunteer kayakers in diving suits, wisely advising the perils of cramping muscles and hypothermia. NYPD patrol boats and helicopters also begin to make their presence known.
At this juncture, most people of average intelligence realize it's time to exit the ocean. But there are still a hundred or so original swimmers not ready to join the thousands of revelers on the boards. At 12 minutes, the ocean has opened enough to create a path for a robust backstroke or other freestyle events. Over the years, media coverage has documented my fat head squeezed under a Viking helmet spouting water like a cherub, or exiting the water as the cover photo for a story.
https://abc7ny.com/community-events/polar-bear-plunges-go-on-despite-arctic-blast/2844293
After the 15 minute mark, the ocean is nearly empty but for the latecomers running in then out for bragging rights. Many of these are the poor planners who still roam the city from the previous evening. Watching them shivering as they they pull their 'walk of shame' clothing on is an annual tradition.
An ocean exit after the 20 minute mark draws crowds approaching with blankets, but believe me when I say its largely unnecessary. Strangers can spike swords into the flaming red, numb flesh and the swimmer will not feel a thing. The hardest part of staying in this long will be trying to pull dry socks on without feeling your toes. There will occasionally be signs of exposure as the body shivers itself back to a normal core temperature, but if you made it this far without cramping or collapsing, you're ready to move back to the boardwalk for some drinkin' and dancin'.
Since the days of the first swim, the popularity and support of the event has grown among my peers as well. What was once a party of two with Officer Healy has grown to dozens of friends, family and even colleagues showing support in and out of uniform. Whether is was a not-so-well-attended day of single digit plunges, 6 inches of snow, or during Covid when officials thought there was some way humanly possible to close the ocean, support has steadily increased. Personally, the past quarter century has also had a significant impact on my own experience as well. While watching myself get old, fat, and gray, I've also watched my small but supportive family age as well. As of this 25th swim in 2024, there are now more deceased family members than there are living ones to tailgate alongside thousands of smiling strangers. But as will happen with tradition, the next generation is stepping up. Turning my helmeted head to the port and starboard side in the years since Covid, I've noticed the children of our group have joined the ranks. Wandering toddlers only a short memory ago are now sporting Speedos today, keeping the tradition going and making the largest winter swim chapter on planet Earth proud.
2002 2021 Covid Plunge
Speaking of smiling strangers, If there was ever a reason to skip going through the motions in some overpriced venue, I highly recommend being well rested on New Year's Eve, putting on a hat and gloves, and coming to the beach. Trust me when I say participating in this event- with or without wearing a Speedo- is more fun than anything you'll accomplish on New Years' Eve. Every person at the New Year's Day Polar Plunge is welcoming and full of smiles. Hours after the 1 pm swim, as the sun sets and the temperature dips, people are still carrying on inside and outside Ruby's bar.
Despite the best activity you can participate in with your clothes on, (or off if you choose) safety and preparation is still very important. In 25 consecutive years, we have lost a handful of swimmers. Hypothermia and cardiac arrest is very real. Pay close attention to your body signs, and if you consider swimming, make sure you have layers of warm, dry clothing for after your dip, and lots of intoxicants to keep lubricated. And if you need any game time pointers, look for the fat guy in the Viking helmet for as long as I am able to attend. :)
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