When I was a kid, my next door neighbor Rob was my best friend and co-conspirator in many adventures. We lived in Great Neck, NY, aka West Egg in The Great Gatsby, which is on the north shore on the "midwest end" of Long Island, the "first bump" on the north shore not in Queens County, NYC. Anyway, Rob's dad loved to go pier fishing out at Montauk Point, waaaaaaaaay out on the eastern end of LI, 80 to 100 miles from Great Neck. When Rob was old enough, he went with him. Rob had gone several times, telling me how great it was, how many fish they caught, etc. and finally talked me into going with them which meant getting up at 0:dark-thirty for the two hour drive out to Montauk (see, there was a point in telling you where Great Neck is). And Rob's dad was one of the great story tellers of all time, so on the drive out these 10 year old boys were hearing their first slightly dirty jokes and we were in stitches, (ROFLMAO) laughing the entire way out . We finally got to the pier where we would fish, and they taught me how to bait my hook, etc. We all dropped our line in the water and it wasn't long before Rob and his dad pulled out whatever fish was there, most of them 6 to 8 inches long going into the bucket and the smaller ones were thrown back. They pulled out dozens in about three hours and the bucket was almost full. Me? I caught one minnow, and no, we didn't keep it. Now they laughed at me all the way home.
This was repeated one more time, with similar results. I started playing golf shortly thereafter.