Theresa Lewis

They say that laughter is the best medicine. I know that to be true, however, there are times in life that self control would be wiser. We all know that it is considered improper and disrespectful to laugh out loud in church.

From the time we were small children, the words “control yourself!” and “don’t make a scene in public,” were pounded into us. For the most part, I complied. However, there were times in my life when I lost it big time and laughed like a hyena at inappropriate times.

One day, when I was about nineteen years old, I was waiting for a bus at the corner of Guy and St. Catherine’s Streets in downtown Montreal. The line for the bus had about thirty people who were waiting as I was. It was such a nice late spring day and I didn’t mind waiting. I was gawking around at all the people passing by on the street as I leaned against the wall of a building.

I noticed a very well dressed woman getting out of a taxi on Guy Street. She wore a light blue dress with matching open coat. She had on nylons and spike heeled blue shoes to match her dress. She had her hair perfectly coiffed and her makeup was impeccable. She looked like she was on her way to some important fancy function.

Her arms were laden with numerous packages of all shapes and sizes. Shopping bags would have been handier, but she didn’t seem to have one. I watched her struggle to close the door of the taxi. Since she didn’t have a free hand, she nudged the door closed with her elbow just as the traffic light changed to green. That’s when all hell broke loose.

The taxi driver didn’t notice that the woman’s coat was slammed in the door. He just wanted to take the green light. The woman’s parcels flew into the air and littered the street as she screeched and hollered at the driver to stop. He dragged that poor woman backwards around the corner at breakneck speed. She lost her shoes and ran like a gazelle backwards as fast as she could with all kinds of people jumping off the curb and flailing their arms in the air while shrieking at the taxi driver to stop. It was two minutes of utter mayhem.

First, she fell on her butt and was dragged backwards then she kind of rolled over and was dragged on her stomach. By the time the driver stopped, there was nothing left of the woman’s fancy matching outfit. She was filthy and her clothes were in tatters. Her knees were bleeding. A few kind people helped her gather her shoes and her parcels. No one helped her gather her wits. They left that task up to her. I watched her walk into an apartment building lobby that had enormous glass doors.

Compassion totally escaped me that day. Something else took over my mind and I laughed like a freaking hyena. No one else laughed at the poor woman’s plight. There I was, standing in a line of thirty strangers, and I was laughing my guts out. I tried to control myself, but it was impossible. I tried not to look at the woman who was sitting on the steps inside the apartment building while trying to assess her damages. A middle-aged woman stayed with her and extracted a rumpled tissue from her purse to help the victim clean herself off. That set me off again. I guarantee that one slightly used crumpled tissue would not have done the job.

The harder I tried to control my laughter, the more I laughed. Some people in the line couldn’t help laughing, too. I think they were laughing at my uncontrolled hysterics.

The bus pulled up and I got on and sat alone and tried to think of something else so I wouldn’t look stupid sitting by myself, and laughing. Once I managed to control myself, I felt really bad for the woman. I think it was the sudden shock that made me lose my mind and forget my manners.

Perhaps I was somewhat brain damaged at an early age from trying to skate down a neighbour’s driveway one winter. I ran out of ice and fell head long into a sharp wooden pillar. I split my head wide open and broke my nose. That incident probably accounts for the many moments of lost sanity that have plagued my life. Yes, I think I’ll go with that excuse.

The End