When I was a girl and coralled during the holidays into driving tractors on the farm, I used to thoroughly enjoy being targetted by the yanks in their Warthogs - and confess to sometimes abandonning whatever tedious task I would be doing (it invariably involved going up and down all day in straight lines) and haring around the field in top gear. They seemed to appreciate this.
Later, I lived for a while in a castle not far from Canterbury. I imagine it was either used as a target or waypoint by Tornado crews for they used to scream over the top of the keep low enough for us to smell the fuel.
If this was you, and if you thought that woman jumping up and down on the roof of the keep was furious, you'd be wrong. It was joy.