When I was eleven years old, I rode a boat to Catalina Island with my family.
At that age, my number one priority in life was to laugh, so, naturally, I brought a whoopee cushion with me.
A couple foreign men were seated near us, saying something in another language. They were inches away, but they might as well have been in another country.
That was, until they saw me tricking my grandma into sitting on the whoopee cushion. Then they started laughing. We all made eye contact and connected almost like old friends.
We bonded over simulated farts, and I learned that laughter is a universal tongue. It’s a bridge that connects souls even when the high walls of language divide them.
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