Thanksgiving Day, 1977. My dad decides to go fishing that day, with plans to come in early. We head towards Haulover, load up on pilchards, and start looking for kings. Not a boat in sight. Couldn't find many fish until we moved farther north and see another commercial boat out of the Miami river with the owner fishing solo who's got the kings boiling behind the boat. He calls us over and says to anchor next to him, he's got to get home to cook a turkey. We quickly start handlining kings as fast as you can go. In the middle of the furious action, I unknowingly bring up the tentacles of a Man-O-War and get them all over my left hand. I never knew it could hurt so much. Numbed my hand out completely to the point I couldn't fish. My dad and brother kept catching kings like mad. Since I wasn't doing anything, my dad asks me to close the front window on the cabin since the north wind had picked up and it was getting cold. The window was hinged along the top edge and would open up, with an adjuster on the right side and one of those nobs you twist to lock in whatever position you want. I put my left (numb) hand up on the hinged part of the window to unlock the nob and let it close. Well, I closed the window on my left hand! Now my hand was not only numb with red lines all over it, but I also had a big purple bruise on the meaty part just below the pinky. I was a real strong candidate for the Darwin Award that day. I'm pretty sure that was the only time I ever fished on Thanksgiving Day.