It’s easy to get my sister and I laughing, so when you add her daughters into the mix, and then the daughters of my brother, we turn into a giggling gaggle of gals. The laughter is contagious, difficult to stop once it starts, gets loud, and there is an occasional snort. 

We inherited the loud-laugh gene from my mom (Grandma to my nieces). My mom’s laugh is true, and genuine, never false or fake, and can set off an entire room. And when we’re outside, without walls and unrestricted, and something or someone sets off the laugh track, we can get howling like a band of banshees.

I knew that riding bikes in Central Park would be adventurous and fun. What I didn’t know is that riding a bike (something seemingly so benign) could potentially be such an epic comedy of errors. We should issue a Public Service Announcement – like “don’t drink & drive” or “don’t text & drive” – ours would be “don’t cry & ride.”  Because belly aching laughter is contagious and can cause laughter-tears, and that can be hazardous to you and innocent bystanders.

The comedy started shortly after we entered the park. I’m sure there were warning signs, cautions we didn’t heed, maps we should have read. But with five grown (and smart!) women, I suppose we all just assumed someone else knew what they were doing!?!

We wanted to get to Strawberry Fields. It seemed easy enough. Yet we rode in circles, repeatedly, not aware of what we were doing wrong, and why we couldn’t manage to get from wherever we were, to where we wanted to go. And we found this hysterical (or at least some of us did*). The more we went in circles, the more cars honked at us, and the more pedestrians glared at us, and the harder we laughed (some of us laughed*). I figured the honks and glares were a result of their dislike for our public joy, our laughter, and our fun! Poor New Yorkers, I thought, they’re such party-poopers… they really should visit the West Coast and re-learn how to smile. 

Well, it turns out it wasn’t any of those things. It turns out people were likely pissed, most certainly concerned, and it’s possible a few were actually trying to help us, because the pathway inside Central Park is ONE WAY and we were riding in circles (all five of us in a line), going the WRONG WAY. Never-mind that we weren’t wearing helmets, or that my sister and I were laughing so hard we couldn’t see straight or ride without swerving.

Thankfully, at some point we got turned around and headed the RIGHT WAY, and eventually we made it to Strawberry Fields. But then there was a new problem, because if you’ve been to Strawberry Fields, then you know that it is supposed to be a quiet, reflective, tranquil and peaceful spot in the park. Well… I guess we missed the signs (again), because there we were, giggling, under the watchful glares of tourists and locals.

We meant no disrespect, but sometimes, once you get going, you just can’t help yourself and you just can’t stop the laugh track. The good news, no one was injured in the making of this memory (or at least not seriously*).

*On a side note, my eldest niece was not impressed by our lack of taking matters “seriously” (clearly, she was the one not laughing) – she was seemingly upset with us for a minute or two, while we cackled and crowed like circus monkeys on bicycles. Thankfully, she’s fine now (thankfully, we’re all fine), and laughing again.

*2022 update – that same niece, she’s making a career of saving lives. It should come as no surprise that she’s the strongest among us and she was the one putting safety first.