When I was a kid, I was doing batting practice in my backyard. I was pretty little, so my dad didn't think I could hit the ball anywhere dangerous--we had a huge backyard, too, so it wasn't likely that I'd hit it far, anyway. So, of course, I smash a home-run tier hit over the fence, past my yard, all the way into the neighbors yard, up into his window. Or so I thought.
It was actually his entire sliding glass door panel, which spanned nearly the entire south wall of his house.
My dad had to pay about $500 in repairs for it, all the while I was crying cuz I'm like, 7 years old, and when you're small and something goes wrong, you usually cry. And the neighbor could not understand a single word my dad was saying, so their conversation was just "what are you saying" over and over and over. Then my dad said to shake his hand as an apology, and I used my left hand, which was super awkward cuz I didn't know how to shake a person's hand back then.
Big yikes.