When I was about 11, I was at the state fair, where I was showing a Welsh pony and a Walker foal.
Anyway, above the stalls there was a loft, and I used to loll around in the loft above my pony's stall, while the trainers and owners lounged about in lawn chairs outside the stalls, in the breezeway.
I had just learned to make a noose (an art I have long since lost).
So for fun, I'd make miniature nooses of haystring, and lower them down to dangle in front of the trainers and owners for a joke.
One day, I dangled said noose down next to a well-known walker trainer and bopped it around his head...and my pony reached her nose out between the bars of her stall and grabbed the noose and gave it a healthy yank.
I didn't quite, but almost, came tumbling down. Because at 11, I hadn't yet learned the "JUST LET GO" rule of when something is dragging you at the end of a rope, let the fucker go. I was hanging by my hips about 9 feet above the concrete before I let go.
Same pony escaped during the fair and wandered around the carnival, including the octopus, and various and assorted other terrifying rides, with about 3 people racing after her.
my brother got married on this ranch he worked on, western style wedding. They made their own dance floor out in the field and everything. As a joke the grooms men put a noose in the tree behind the alter.