It sure was brave of Han Solo to go back out into that blizzard to look for Luke, especially once we learn from R2 that the odds of surviving are 725 to one. But, you know: never tell Han the odds. . .

When I was a kid I never gave any thought to how Han must have had to cuddle up against Luke in that shelter all night. I guess I was so distracted by the idea of warming oneself in stinky, slithering Tauntaun guts that I never thought about what happened a few minutes later when those Tauntaun guts cooled down. I mean, anybody with a modicum of survival training knows that the best way to stay warm in a frigid tent is to cuddle up against somebody. I went on a camping trip in Shenandoah once where this girl started acting like she had hypothermia and this one guy started stripping off all his clothes to jump into a sleeping bag with her. Awkward!

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Han and Luke had some kind of Brokeback moment in that shelter (not that there would be anything wrong with that--- it would still be less weird than a few scenes later when Leia frenches Luke). If anything, the smell of Tauntaun all over Luke like truck stop Drakkar Noir would have precluded any hanky panky. But that's not to say they didn't still share a certain level of intimacy in that tent. I can just picture Luke: shivering, still muttering incoherently about the Dagobah system, spooned ever so gently by Solo's rugged torso and manly thighs while the harsh Hoth winds howl against the thin shell of their standard issue Rebel Alliance emergency shelter. Is that your blaster, Han?

You bet it is, kid. And that had better be your light saber. . .

There I go again, writing homoerotic Star Wars fan fiction. I really ought to keep that hobby to myself. It's just that when they show the shelter the next morning it doesn't look very big. There are no trees nearby and it doesn't look like Han built any kind of fire. Still, the bitterly cold hours spent during that long Hoth night have clearly not chilled Han's trademark sarcasm. "Good morning." he says to the dude in the speeder. "Nice of you guys to drop by. . ." Jeez, has he already made coffee, too? Something kept Han warm that night. I'm going to go with snuggles.

Ever notice how quick Han is to assert his manliness when they get back to Echo base and Luke finally gets out of that diaper in the chamber filled with goo? As soon as Leia enters the room he ramps up the machismo as if to remind Chewy or the droids just how masculine he is despite how many hours he's just spent cuddling a Jedi. "You didn't see us alone in the south passage," he says about Leia, and Luke looks jealous. But who does he really envy?

If I write about this, some nerds are probably going to e-mail me all kinds of malarkey about how Han probably rigged the power cell in Luke's lightsaber for warmth or how Hoth rotates faster than earth, making night last only a few hours. But I prefer to think about Han and Luke awkwardly spooning through an entire night, Han gently taking Luke's core temperature from time to time and keeping him awake with stories of his early days as a cabin boy with the Corellian pirates or his adventures smuggling spice for the Huts. Is this where Luke first learned how Han met Chewbacca, or heard the hilarious story of how he won the Millenium Falcon from Lando? Did Han muss the boy's hair, tell him not to worry, tell him he'd make it to the Dagobah system? The odds of this turning into a lasting friendship are good, Mr. Solo. Sometimes, I guess, the bonds of the warmest friendships are born in the coldest tents.

[the kids recently discovered a stash of my old Star Wars toys and it has been like, Wampa this, Wampa that for at least two weeks]