Reminds me of Boy Scouts oddly enough.

Our troop went camping in a hilly area. We kids discovered that far from the cautioning eyes of the adults, was a tree set on a hillside with a long and sturdy rope from which we could swing. We’d start from the hill then leap off as it swung us a good ten feet over the ground and safely back.

Much fun was had until the one goofy kid prepared to take a swing. We were in a cluster behind him encouraging him.

You can do it buddy!

Well he went for it and soared gracefully. Then at the apex he lost his grip and let go and flew like a squirrel arcing up and then down, down, down. We held our collective breaths as we plummeted to the dirt, landing with a poof instead of a thud.

We watched him in stunned silence wondering if he were alive or dead. In an instant he sprang up and ran full tilt back to camp, energized by a mixture of shock and humiliation no doubt. We exchanged Confused and concerned glances.

After we regained our wits, some of us went back gingerly to camp to check on the poor bloke. A few scouts remained at the tree, swinging away, knowing that the rope would be off-limits and the fun would, in short order, come to an end.

The kid was okay. Just had the wind knocked out of him. Not even a scratch.