Tabasco, Tebow, & Television: No Matter What, Laughter Sure Sounds the Same in Any Language

I’ve recently come to the conclusion that, well, I’m a stalker. Not a creepy-call-the-cops kind of stalker. The other kind. The kind where I can’t seem to go anywhere without wanting to look and watch people do whatever it is they do in an endearing, non-creepy kind of way. People are fascinating, really.

An innocent person being stalked...Thanks Brianna!

And, of course…

A of the endearing kind...and yes. I'm in a dress. In the grass. Smiling. What can I say?

It all started in Spain. In a taxi. On a ride from the airport. A ride in which I thought I was going to die. After skirting death for the third time, thoughts of “Oh, crap, that’s a big bus. And this is a small taxi. Damn Europeans and their need for teeny, tiny showers and streets and automobiles,” running through my brain, I had an epiphany.

Every time I ride in a cab, I seem to have an “Oh my God, we’re going to die” moment. At least once. Every time. Now granted, I don’t ride in cabs very often, but when I do, the experiences share some scary similarities. As I’m still here, apparently The Big Guy Upstairs thinks I still have some things left to do here on Earth. **Side note to The Big Guy:  I know, I know. I’m working on it.  It would help if I got a little cooperation down here. Just sayin’.**

From the fear-inducing cab drivers, I couldn’t help but notice simalarities in all the other people we came across, too. As we wandered through Spain and Portugal on foot, by train, and by plane, I saw:

Grumpy old men. 

Grumpy yet endearing.

Tiny old women.

This little lady is a nun. So sweet, bless her heart.

Happy couples.

Happy couples sharing their affection for each other with the world.

Still working on what the 21 could mean.

People napping.

People attempting to heal other people.

People reading.

People looking perplexed at what they’re reading.

People bonding over beers.

People putting on a good front.

More people napping.

Men and women on different pages.

People practicing their Spanish.

Two Lovely Ladies immediately after a total of 15 hours on a plane, one scary cab ride, and about six blocks of walking with luggage in tow. At least one of them is a Florida fan. And oh, look. She's got Post-its. Imagine that.

And Florida grads showing their love all over the world. 

UF Love in Lisbon

After all that, I came to realize, even though we’re all different, with different brains and different families and different hair colors (natural or salon-assisted), we, people that is, are quite similar. When we’re happy, you can tell. (After all, laughter sounds the same in any language.) When we’re upset, you can tell. (So does yelling…she may have been speaking in Portuguese, but boy, that guy in the red coat was getting a lashing.) When we’re thinking, you can tell. (Eyes up to the sky, forehead wrinkled ring a bell?)

So, while we all have our differences (you like Tabasco, I prefer Crystal; you like Tebow because he’s hot, I love him because he’s a Gator; you like TV for zombie shows, I like TV for away games; you live in Florida because it’s better than New York, I live in Florida for the sunshine, etc.), we’re all fundamentally the same. We have hopes. We have insecurities. We have good intentions. We have crazy relatives, and baggage (the carry on and emotional kinds), and better driving abilities than almost everyone else. We’re simply kindred spirits. And in a world as big and busy as we live in, it’s kind of nice to know someone knows just how you feel.



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One Comment

  1. Gina April 5, 2012 at 11:11 am #

    I wish I had some makeup on!!!

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