I can see it like it was yesterday at 11.34 am, PST. I grew up in a small town, and our summers revolved around the river. One day, a group of us neighborhood kids decided for adventure, and growing up in a small town, this was high on our list of exciting things to do, we'd all grab our inner-tubes and have us a relaxing, leisurely float down the river. Now, usually, we floated for a limited distance, which we knew well. But the fateful day, which, unbeknownst to us, would test us as little men, we decided to sail uncharted oceans. We were having a nice, lazy float. The sky was blue, the sun was orange, and soon, all-too-soon, we'd be yellow. We floated beyond where our charts ended, and plunged into hell, or at least as hellish as it gets when you're ten.

We floated around a mysterious bend in the river, and there stood a man in the water, not just an ordinary man. No, this man was dressed like an old-time medieval dude, and carried a sword. We pulled up short, and tried to make sense of this unexpected sight. He saw us suddenly, unsheathed his sword, and came charging straight at us, water splashing high into the summer air, and went medieval on our asses, demanding,

"Who dare cross my land?"

Well sir, not us, and we took off running, rocks doing their best to trip us. We didn't stop running once we made it to the rivers edge, we didn't stop running until we had put much distance between us, and who, looking back, must have been the best actor in the history of actors. He played his "let's scare the shit out of helpless little children!" part to perfection, but, being little kids, we thought we'd barely escaped a tragic hacking off of limbs. In addition to not being the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree, we we were not exactly stout of heart little warriors!