California : My mind seemed to scream out to me, warning me against the lunacy of what I was asking of it. I was willing it to make me jump into a pool of water.
Nothing psychotic about that, except that the temperature was hovering at about two degrees below freezing point and I was standing on a blanket of snow. All around me were snow-packed mountainsides crisscrossed with ski lifts and snow slopes with skiers whizzing down them. I was at High Camp at Squaw Valley, Lake Tahoe in California's High Sierra. With my mind still sending out all possible ramifications of my course of action, I stripped down to my bathers and jumped into the swimming pool.
Rather than instant death by shock freezing, I found warm bliss since the pool was heated to a lovely 39 degrees Celsius, which made it more comfortable being in the water than out of it.
Around me, skiers were following suit, zipping down the slopes stripping down to their bathers or bikinis and jumping right into the water. The bar was close at hand churning out refreshing mimosas, a cocktail made with orange juice added to sparkling wine.