When I was a young buck, I lived for a short time in an appartment next to a frat house in Madison, WI (on Langdon). One glorious spring afternoon, I was sitting on the window sill enjoying the beautiful weather and the view of the lake. The boys next door were having a party on the deck on top of their back porch. It was a good 50 feet or more from me and about 15 feet below me as the ground sloped downwards towards the lake.

The boys were hosting their parents at the party and brought out their homemade 3-man slingshot made from surgical tubing and a leather pouch. Two of the guys would hold each end of the doubled tubing and the third would load a water ballon and lean all the way back until he was horizontal on the ground. They were firing off at sailboats on the lake (boys will be boys). One of them noticed me sitting on my perch and motioned that they should target me. I brazenly took of my shirt and pushed out my chest, daring them to shot.

They did. And the ballon hurled towards me traveled so fast I had no time to react and moved even if I intended to. Smack! A hit dead center on my chest. Lucky for me the impact was realtively painless, although wet. I was amazed that their aim was so good. They obviously had been practicing, plus they were sober as their parents were there!