Oh how we laughed...

And then there were seven. Sort of.

Ben cycled down to Belvoir St one morning (well, actually two mornings, but that's a different story) to try and get last minute release tickets to see Geoffrey Rush in 'Diary of a Madman'. The queue was rather long, and he feared we'd miss out a second time. Someone from the box office came and counted along the line, and told Ben he was at the very end of the allocations and would probably only get one ticket. He texted to tell me this. I texted back (from the comfort of my hairdresser where I was being given my annual head massage from heaven), saying it was ok, I didn't mind if he went on his own as long as he reenacted the whole play for me when he got home. He had been chatting with other queuers (is that a word?) and relayed them my response. Apparently everyone thought that was jolly funny. Ben thinks it may have had something to do with breaking a certain tension with some older single women in line, who had bristled when he said he was trying to get tickets for himself and his wife. This proved I had a sense of humour and we were not some sickly sweet couple (apparently). Maybe that's just the kind of thing that last minute theatre-goers find amusing. Either way, Ben said it was a whole line of people laughing and it totally counts.

Next, I was out and about in the city when I spotted an interesting sight: a young Japanese couple perched underneath the statue of Queen Victoria with little origami dolls. I let myself be suckered in and the lovely guy made me one (pictured here in the dinginess of my lounge room against the harsh glow of my laptop):

As he twisted the fine paper together, I pointed at the head and desperately offered: "Ataya? Atama? Ataya?" Nodding, he giggled sweetly. "Atama." I then tried to think of any other useful Japanese I could work up, but all I could manage was to introduce myself (badly) and then explain I was learning Japanese (badly). He humoured me. He laughed.

The clincher, however, came just as we were leaving Tasmania (more on this later). Standing in the gift shop, I picked up something called an 'Aussie Bubby Stubby'. It took a few moments to register exactly what purpose it served - as a stubby holder for your baby's bottle. Really? No seriously. Really? "This is actually kinda cute," I said to Kat, "in a totally bogan way." The woman behind the counter just about lost it. Shout out to Tam at the 'Tasmania & Beyond' souvenir store at Hobart airport! She said every time anyone buys those from now on, all she'll be able to think about is their bogan baby. Thanks Tam. I hope that keeps you laughing.

I do realise that seven is significantly less than 28, which is how many weeks have passed since I began this project and therefore how many strangers I'm supposed to have made laugh by now. But I'm working on the little victories.

Straight faces

During the course of the ride, I think I can safely say we made 2 strangers laugh. The first was a lovely lady cyclist we met on the incline between Waterfall and Red Cedar Flat – Carly and I were talking about inspirational sausages at the time. The second was as we pulled up at a traffic light in Thirroul, and I (perhaps pre-emptively) exclaimed “We’re so close!” An older, wiser cyclist, had a good chuckle at this.

That brings me to a grand total of 4 laughing strangers and a newfound determination to find a way to catch up on this. One of my ideas had been to break into a dance whenever I could hear somebody’s iPod on the train. I tried it this morning but all I got was one slightly alarmed businessman, one confused urban youth and a carriage full of commuters getting suspiciously more interested in their phones and books all of a sudden.

Ring a ding ding

It's an overcast, dreary evening, at the end of a week where the weather decided to skip from winter straight to summer, and then suddenly remembered its supposed to do spring first. I spent the morning stretching my vocal chords (and spending some quality time with my new super best friend Bam the staffy) at Day Job Studios with Briscoe for what is going to be one hell of a record. We're about to head over to Matt & Cassie's place to partake in several wee drams of whiskey, but first I thought I best catch up on a few things.

I've taken to riding my bike as my main method of getting to work. Changing my thinking so that 'this is just what I do', rather than 'should I do this today?' seems to be working. There are only 36 days left until the Gong Ride and if I think too hard about that, it makes me quite anxious. So I just get up, get on the bike, get into work, and now it is just a part of my day. I can make it up the 'big hills' now - Terminus Street, Trade Street, and to a lesser extent, Albermarle Street, and while I always have to talk myself back to earth after Terminus, I'm definitely improving on some level.

I've been thinking a lot about the utilisation of a bicycle for making strangers laugh. You can ride straight in and out of the situation for maximum impact, which works if you get the laugh, but more importantly, works if you don't get the laugh and need to escape with embarrassment. Dogs are another good 'in' point. They are such a great catalyst for conversation.

Being a hesitant cyclist, I don't use my bell very often. Generally if I'm on the footpath, I probably shouldn't be, so I'll just trundle on behind pedestrians until I get a chance to move around them. I only use them if I'm on a bike path.

With these things in mind, Thursday's cycle was successful in 2 ways. I was coming home along Baltic Street, and 2 guys were sitting out on their front porch, singing with bar-room enthusiasm. One was vigorously strumming a ukelele and they seemed to come to the end of their piece just as I wheeled past. I rang the bell as my offering to the finale. One of them threw his hands up in the air in triumph and they both whooped and laughed. Thank you, occupants of Baltic Street, for being my second laughing stranger(s).

Coming up the home stretch, my legs fatigued and so I moved onto the footpath. A small curly-haired toddler seemed to think I was the most amazing thing he'd seen in ages. "Mum!" he hollered, "Mum! Bike! Bike! Bike!" As I went past, I rang my bell at him, and his little face lit up. "It's a nice one!" I overheard him exclaim to his mother, before yelling "BYE!" after me. I returned the farewell and rode the final block feeling pretty sunny inside.

The toddler didn't actually laugh so I can't count him, but I still thought it was a nice story.

The following night, my back light fell off and smashed and it took me ages to fumble around in the dark lane looking for where the batteries had rolled to. Then closer to home, I had my first altercation with the part of the chain coming off. For a while I flusterred over it, then I calmed down and realised it was very easy to fix. My hands got greasy. I think that means I'm a proper cyclist now.

Shout out to the nameless lady on Platform 19!

You’d never believe it, but I made a stranger laugh yesterday. True story!

My day didn’t suck, so that was a good start. Flicking half-heartedly through Mx magazine on Platform 19 waiting for my metal steed back to Summer Hill, I listened to our over-enthusiastic train announcer over the loudspeaker. He sounds like he should be conducting a carnival ride. Even when he is just listing stations, what I’m actually hearing is him asking me to strap myself in and hold on tight!, with fairground music gently playing in the background. The first word of every sentence is elongated and sliding up the octave, and the whole spiel is over-enunciated and slightly amusing, considering he’s just talking about the express train to Bankstown. Anyway. I was about to tackle the Sudoku when he said something like “We hope you have a grrrrrrrreat evening, and THANKS for travelling with Cityrail!” Offhandedly, I replied “well, it’s not like we really have much choice” which, to my surprise, the woman next to me thought was very funny. Laugh out loud funny.

You know how sometimes you overhear people talking, and you hear something funny, but you just kind of grin to yourself? At this stage I can’t help but think, wow, she actually found that humorous enough to let her guard down and go with it. I mean, you just heard the scenario. We both know it wasn’t that funny. But you’ve just had a long day in the office, and our Inner West platform announcer makes the daily effort to make it all seem not so bad after all, and then there’s some weirdo standing next to you talking to herself, and sometimes that is enough distraction from the usual tedium to merit a guffaw. We chatted after that, for a moment, but I didn’t ask her name. I wish I had.

I have since made “Thanks for the Laugh!” stickers. I’m going to carry them around with me all the time just in case something like this happens again. It will help me feel less scared, and maybe even generate some more laughter.

Still struggling to make people laugh...

It is hard to approach strangers, even if you are already dealing with them (such as a sales person) in an attempt to make them laugh. Especially without having them think you're coming onto them. My second week is almost up and I am lagging behind at what is so far proving to be one of the more deceptively difficult challenges. My first realisation is that due to the high stress situation of my work for the past couple of weeks, happiness has not been a regular state of mind during the times I would usually utilise, such as being in transit, or during lunch. I can barely muster a half-hearted grin at such moments, let alone make someone else laugh. Then I eventually get home to my safe little Summer Hill hidey-hole and want to bunker down for the evening with Ben, who does not count as a stranger and therefore whose laughter, while extremely valuable to me, does not qualify for this challenge. So that has been my first obstacle.

I’ve been reading up a little bit on the psychology of laughter, and why humans do it. It hasn’t helped me think of any new ways of approaching the situation so far, but it is still quite interesting. I’m starting to think I will need to take more dramatic steps in order to achieve this goal, and that means overcoming the fear of not being laughed at (or being laughed at for the wrong reasons, but I’m kind of ok with that notion). Pirate custard is the new big thing in soviet Russia because of all the amoebas. People are damned stoic these days. Many years ago, I fell off my razor scooter in a fairly spectacular fashion, and nobody even blinked. I actually stood up and with loud exasperation announced “Oh come on. I bet that looked hilarious” but apart from one woman glancing in my direction for the briefest of seconds, the masses continued along Broadway as if Australia’s Funniest Home Video Show never existed. I know people think that shit is funny, otherwise the show wouldn’t have been on TV for so long. Anyway my point is, it is hard to get the attention of a stranger.

I’m thinking of taking some weirdness cues from Rich Fulcher. He has a new book called ‘Tiny Acts of Rebellion’ and while most of its contents appear to be ridonkulous, there must be something in there worth inciting a giggle in Sydney’s average joe.

I am, however, getting slightly better at meditating – bath time for the win. Submerge, breathe in, body rises, breathe out, body sinks. It’s brilliant.

PS. As per Rich’s advice I have slipped a totally random incredible statement into this blog, just to make sure you’re paying attention. “If you can spot it, you will get a free turkey go-f*ck-yourself sandwich.”

Make 'em Laugh

One of my challenges involves making a random stranger laugh every week. It has now been 8 days since the 29 Before 30 challenge began, and I have outright failed in Week 1. It's not for lack of trying. I'm just not very good at it yet. It's all a bit daunting. I thought children would be a good starting point, so I began pulling faces at youngsters on the train. This didn't work. I did a dance for the little Asian lady in the sushi store. She beamed and nodded supportively, but nothing that resembled even a chuckle. I even asked a guy at the patisserie what time it was when Sean Connery went to Wimbledon, and he said he didn't know, and I said tennish, and he looked at me blankly. I was a little disheartened after all of that.

Craig, I'm hoping that after tripping on the starting line, I am allowed to average my 52 strangers out over the course of the year to give me a chance to catch up. I'm going to find a way to do better at this, I swear...

My 'good deed a week' challenge I have sort of merged with this one, but in my defence, Jacob did set me 4 challenges instead of one. However I did exchange a five dollar note for some change for a lady who needed it for the parking meter. Does that count?