I thought that some of you might be interested in this tale of poor choices, frozen feet, and adventure near the Arctic Circle. I don’t usually write stories because I prefer writing essays, but this is a narrative that I am reminded of every winter. Instead of the crumbs of a madeleine cake touching off a cascade of memories, my Proustian reminiscence begins with my cold right foot. Every year, as the weather gets colder, my right foot reminds me of this experience and I am grateful for the lessons I learned on this trip.