Dragged, kicking and screaming

We went on one of those canned deep sea fishing boats this weekend. I haven't been on one of these since I worked at summer camp. Imagine a boat with 45 eight-year-old children: 20 with a nylon rat's nest where thair reel should be and/or physically tangled in their own line, 7 with frothing, bloody fish slapping at their feet, 2 pierced by their own hooks, 1 pierced by someone else's hook and 10 vomiting their lunchables. At the end of every trip, the captain would beg me to work for him. I'm still scarred. Really. Actual scars.

They had, like, a 10 year old mate.
He made me very nervous.