Craziest thing: two guys were playing at the table next to ours. Suddenly, one of them screamed and blood spewed out of his bridge hand. Turns out, there was a bunch of small but nasty glass splinters embedded in the felt, and the remnant of a broken beer glass hidden in one of the pockets. They had managed to play and avoid injury for a good two hours.
Funniest thing: a drunken friend was going around from table to table, being loud and obnoxious while the rest of us was playing the poolhall's bi-weekly 9-ball tournament. At some point, the guy I was playing against had the 9 hanging by the corner pocket, and a straight-in shot. As he was taking his shot, my friend arrived, leaned his crotch against the table's corner, just in front of the 9-ball, arms and legs spread wide and shouted "woohoo mister, I bet you're gonna scratch!" or something. The guy glanced at my friend, went back to his shot, instantly lowered his cue tip almost down to the felt, and shot hard, scooping the cueball and jumping it right into my friend's cojones. The cueball then somehow dropped back right on top of the 9 ball and pocketed it. Then he calmy said "oops, I miscued" as my friend was bent in half holding his family jewels. Classic... It was so great I didn't even call foul on the illegal jump shot.