You just spent three months chipping ice off of your front steps and hunching your shoulders against the frigid north wind, which keeps coming like a sumo wrestler. Those Anglo-Saxon, winter-resistant genes are wearing thin. So jump in the car and drive the 2,500 or so miles to Hollywood Beach, mate. See what a doughty little Florida city can do for your battered Northern soul. Well? For starters, stick your bony white feet into the Atlantic. It's the icebreaker. It's also the only thing that comes cheap. That and the free playground and a few pizza joints, where the pies are thin and acidic. Hell, if you're Québecois and speak French, greet thousands of your pale fellow countrymen, who dominate the Broadwalk seven months a year. Au revoir, you locals. This place is ours!
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