Fishermen by nature are a superstitious lot. Joe and I are certainly no different. No banana on board, no talking about how’s the fishing’s been, and never guarantee fish. We’ve been burned in the past. This morning’s 6:00AM charter started out like most this week, in the fog. We’ve been having good luck fishing from Race Point all the way past the old Coast Guard Station , usually early, before the sun becomes intense. But, today started off slow, too slow. Something just seemed wrong. Sure enough, Charles gave us a hint of the trouble. He told us that he hasn’t caught a fish since he was 12. When he was fishing off a pier on Long Island, he remembers catching a blowfish. Later, his grandmother lovingly turned that one fish into a meal. Now, most people in their 40’s don’t even know what a blowfish is. So you can imagine the look I gave him. He hadn’t caught a fish in over 40 years!! No wonder the fish weren’t biting. It was the curse of the blowfish. Charles was the jinx. We all had a good laugh. Finally, we made peace with the fish gods and the floodgates opened. We ended the trip with a load of Stripers, and even Charles managed one small fish, breaking the spell of the long ago blowfish. His grandmother would approve.