There was a large reunion for my family down in San Francisco, CA a few years back. We road-tripped down and stayed with my cousins for a week. One of the days we were there, my mom thought it would be a great idea to take us all to Disneyland. We went with a couple other cousins our age.
While we were trying to decide which ride to go on first, my little brother (about 6 at the time) spotted Tarzan! Tarzan was one of his favorite movies so he rushed right on over and joined a group of kids surrounding the costumed star. Well, Tarzan was giving hugs left and right. He was high-fiving all the kids and posing for photo ops. Given the crowd engulfing him, he was really putting male-multitasking to the test. He was doing great! That is, up until my brother, after about 2 hug-less minutes, got his attention with one solid, tiny-fist straight-arm to the gonads. Tarzan dropped like a sack of potatoes and Turk had to give him a break. Mortified, my mother collected my brother, apologized profusely and we continued about our otherwise very pleasant Disneyland Adventure.