How I Got Stung by a Portuguese Man o' War While Tripping on LSD – And the Remedy That Actually Worked

Portuguese Man o' War Stings: What Really Works (From Someone Who Learned the Hard Way)

At certain times of the year, Miami lifeguards post warnings about Portuguese Man o' War (those infamous blue floating "jellyfish" with long, trailing tentacles). They drift on the surface, often in groups carried by currents, and their sting delivers one of the ocean's most intense burns—electric, whipping fire that can last hours. Lifeguards may fly a yellow flag with a black jellyfish symbol in front of their stands to alert swimmers, but the ocean doesn't always cooperate with flags. It's on you to stay vigilant when wading in.

I've spoken to lifeguards who weren't fully up on the latest (or even basic) remedies for these stings—so if it happens to you, don't rely solely on beach staff. Here's practical first-aid advice based on real encounters, including mine:

1. Remove any visible tentacles carefully — Use a gloved hand, stick, credit card edge, or tweezers. Never rub or use bare hands—the tentacles can still sting even detached.
2. Rinse the area gently — Saltwater (seawater if available) is safest to start; avoid freshwater, as it can trigger more stinging cells to fire.
3. VERY IMPORTANT: Apply an ammonia-and-water compress — Dilute household ammonia (about 10% or less) with water and apply as a compress liberally to the sting. In my case (and per some diver/SCUBA lore), this neutralized the venom almost instantly, turning excruciating pain into relief like magic. Apply for 30 minutes or until the pain subsides significantly.
4. Vinegar is NOT recommended for Portuguese Man o' War — While it's a go-to for many true jellyfish stings, it can sometimes trigger more venom release in Man o' War cases (though recent studies are mixed—some now suggest it helps rinse unfired cells).
5. Follow up with heat if possible — Immerse the area in hot water (as hot as tolerable, ideally 110–113°F / 43–45°C) for 20–45 minutes. This deactivates injected venom and eases pain for many people.
6. Seek medical help immediately if... — The sting covers a large area (whole arm, leg, face, genitals), the victim is very young, elderly, or shows signs of systemic issues like difficulty breathing, nausea, muscle cramps, or generalized illness. Don't wait—call emergency services.

Note on remedies: Standard protocols evolve—hot water immersion is widely backed now for pain relief and venom deactivation, while ammonia (including in urine myths) is often discouraged as it can irritate skin or worsen things. What saved me was the ammonia compress from a knowledgeable friend, but always prioritize evidence-based steps and professional care when in doubt.

(Now, the story that taught me all this...)

The Day the Ocean Turned on Me: LSD, a Celebrity Sister, and a Portuguese Man o' War

It was a perfect May day in Miami, the kind that makes you forget winter ever existed. I had the day off from waiting tables at Cafe Tulipe in the Bal Harbour Shops—fancy spot, great tips—and Amanda Malkovich, the cashier there, was coming over. Yeah, that Malkovich: she was John Malkovich's sister. Kind of surreal hanging with someone whose brother is a Hollywood legend, but she was down-to-earth, fun, and had this mischievous energy.

When she showed up at my place, she had that sly smirk. "Wanna drop some acid?" she asked. Hell yeah, I said. We each took a tab, grabbed two big cans of Arizona Iced Tea from the market on the way, and headed to South Beach. By the time we hit the sand, the LSD was kicking in gentle waves. Blue skies, warm sun, turquoise-green ocean sparkling like it was alive. We spread our towels, soaked up the rays, and I felt pure bliss. My skin started sweating in that good, euphoric way. Amanda looked over and said, "Wanna go for a swim?"

Nothing sounded better. We walked to the water's edge. I stood there, speechless, in a perfect moment with the universe—colors popping, everything breathing. Amanda eased in slow. Me? I had a better idea. I backed up a few steps for a running start, looked into the water, greeted Mother Nature like, "Here I come," took off, and dove in like an arrow.

The cool water hit my hot, sweaty skin—nirvana. I submerged, doing long breaststrokes, gliding farther and farther from shore. The water deepened, lungs burning a bit. Time to surface.

That's when paradise flipped to nightmare.

As I kicked up toward the light, I swam straight into the hanging tentacles of a Portuguese Man o' War. Those long, purple, invisible whips wrapped around my forearms, stuck to my face, plastered across my torso, and lashed my waist. Fire—pure, electric fire—exploded everywhere. The acid turned it psychedelic: red veins of agony pulsing in neon, the world fracturing into screaming colors. I have no clue how I got out of the water, but suddenly I was on the sand, grabbing handfuls of it, trying to scrub the clinging tentacles off. Excruciating doesn't cover it.

I sprinted (well, staggered) to the lifeguard tower. The teenage guard handed me a spray bottle of vinegar. "Try this." I doused myself—nothing. Zilch. The pain kept raging. "It's not working," I gasped. He shrugged: "Maybe just come back to the beach later today." What? I wasn't worried about missing sun time—I needed real help, fast.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire

I jumped on my bike and pedaled home like a wounded bird, one arm dangling uselessly from the sting. I dumped the bike in the courtyard, staggered to the door... and froze. Keys? Still back on the beach in my bag. Then the real kicker: more tentacles lodged inside my bathing suit, searing my inner thigh like hidden fire. Could this day get any more cursed? In desperation, I stripped off my trunks right there and collapsed naked on the floor, curled into the fetal position, rocking against the relentless burn.

Thank God Amanda wasn't far behind with my keys. I burst inside, stripped, and jumped into a hot shower. The heat eased it a little—dull roar instead of scream—but not enough.

Then, out of nowhere, my friend Chef Dewey Losasso showed up. Dewey was a SCUBA diver; he knew the ocean's secrets. He took one look, grabbed some household ammonia, diluted it with water, and made a compress. The second he laid it on my skin—magic. The pain vanished like a switch flipped. No more fire, no more crawling agony. My bad trip started turning around; the visuals softened from horror to something almost funny.

We chilled, laughed about the whole mess with friends who trickled in, and yeah—I ended up going back to the beach later that day. The ocean had tested me hard, but I walked away wiser, scarred in cool whip marks, and with a killer story.

The "secret remedy" that actually worked for me? An ammonia-and-water compress, straight from diver lore. (Some old-school sources mention dilute ammonium hydroxide for coelenterate stings like this.) Vinegar from the lifeguard did squat—turns out for Portuguese Man o' War, opinions are split: some studies say vinegar helps rinse and prevent more stings, others warn it can trigger extra venom release (unlike true jellyfish). Hot water immersion (110–113°F for 20–45 minutes) is widely recommended now to deactivate injected venom. But in the moment, Dewey's ammonia trick was the lifesaver that cut through the chaos. Who knows—maybe it neutralized something the vinegar missed.

Moral? Respect the water, especially when you're tripping. And carry a chef who's also a diver.