A Gibbon is some kind of monkey-ape-chimp creature. To be more specific, Wikipedia it yourself. Me I don't have that kind of time, I'm too busy getting in touch with my Altered States self in the backyard on a Gibbon slackline. I tell myself I'm training to justify not going to work.
Every since the SheFlogger cleaned my clock in air hockey I've been searching for a game to reclaim my manliness, such as it existed prior to the aforementioned cleaning of the clock. So I stole into the dark of night and fortified with the last of my Thanksgiving stash of IPA I set up a 15 meter Gibbon slackline. This took a good five minutes, it's that simple: find two stout trees about fifty feet apart and ratchet the thing taut, making sure to keep it flat.
Then the fun begins, if your idea of fun is falling off a 2 inch wide piece of webbing into the snow until you're so powdered you look like Amy Winehouse sneezed on you. It really is addictive, in the same way bouldering is addictive as you repeatedly fail to solve the same problem over and over again. For some real fun whip this thing out at your next party. You can't ignore it, and it quickly becomes a competition to see who can run the gantlet first. Inexpensive, fun and so simple even a climber can set it up. You can't go wrong.