On a family vacation, probably in Oregon, we stayed at a quaint, little inn that had a small, three-par golf course. As I teed off at the first hole, I hit a terrible slice (or a terrible hook—I can't remember what's what in golf anymore), and the ball went flying down this hill toward another hole. There happened to be someone standing there, and the ball landed only a few feet from his position. Had he been just a few feet to the left, the ball could have hit him in the head, and I imagine that he would have been badly injured.
My dad and older brother yelled "Fore!" when it happened, but the guy didn't hear them. Useless.