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Your globe-trotting correspondent found himself at the Pub Mont Fort, in Verbier, Switzerland, not long ago, and he saw the damnedest thing: Many skiers with backpacks reached into their nylon vessels and pulled out clogs or sandals. Just like that: bone-crushing plastic off, loose leather on. But there are countless ski-town bars, especially Stateside, packed with masochists who enjoy lurching around like dogs on their hind legs. Some will wear ski boots deep into the night, on the dance floor, even, which is ill-advised. No desirable member of the opposite sex has ever sized up someone clomping their Nordicas to BTO’s “Takin’ Care of Business” and thought, “Now that’s sexy.” So, remove your ski boots no later than patrol’s final sweep. Your feet, and everyone else, will thank you.