It had been a bitterly cold winter in upstate New York; one for the record books without a doubt. The coldest ever? No one could confirm- the record books were frozen shut.
Growing up on the shores of Lake Ontario, Stan had fully accepted the numbing cold that faithfully accompanied each and every upstate New York winter. A few years back he had even purchased an ice boat that he would take out for joyrides along the frozen shore when the ice grew thick enough.
What Stan couldn't accept about the winter however, was the fact that as soon as the mercury in the thermometer dipped into the twenties and the ice became suitable for some ice boatin', all the girls disappeared indoors!
In the summer, Stan would use his sailboat to pick up ladies on the shore effortlessly and show them a good time out on the lake. In those summer months the beaches brimmed with beautiful gals. The winter was a different story however, and the closest thing it had to babes on the beach were the icy gales that blew in from the north. Brr. With each passing winter Stan grew increasingly frustrated that his ice boat didn't come anywhere close to achieving his summertime success rate.
If only I could find a place where women embraced the cold and frolicked around in it like snow bunnies, Stan thought to himself one day on the lake. But does such a place even exist?
Right then a cold icy gale blew in from the north, and his eyes suddenly grew wide. Stan knew where he needed to go.
He needed to go to Canada.
Would he be able to make it all the way across the great lake to the land of maple syrup and polar bears and snow bunnies? Stan had never traveled that far in his little ice boat, however he decided that it was a risk that he and his hormones were willing to take.
That night, Stan gathered up the supplies he needed for his trip over international ice- food, drinking water, matches, camera, cologne, and last but not least, the latest Playboy magazine- reading material in the event that there was a line when he went through through customs, of course.
Naturally, Stan was the kind of man who read Playboy.
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