"I forgot what a laugh can do."

By Christina Skevington
7/14/2008

That quote is from Ken Kesey.  He also said: "Man, when you lose your laugh, you lose your footing."

A few days ago I raced up the wall of China.  Time was short, people were EVERYWHERE, and I had a mission to get as far up as possible before turning back.  I didn't think twice (really, I didn't even think once) about the steep slopes and uneven foot steps.  It wasn't until I turned around that I lost my breath.  Looking straight down I realized my shoes were flip flops with no traction and I remembered, "I think I"m afraid of heights." Inch by inch I began taking the steps that just moments ago I'd been climbing two or three at a time.

I was gripping the railing with white knuckles (whiter than usual, I mean) and wouldn't let go.  Images of slipping and sliding all the way down to the bottom ran through my head (even as many other people deftly maneuvered downhill.  Many of them were children and old people). I envisioned death a lot too- though I realize now that this was irrational.

It was not my worst of fears- but some of fears were confirmed when I heard a gasp from people behind me and I turned to see a small, squat Asian man in a pink shirt carrying a red shopping bag trip and fall, tumbling a few paces.  Everyone was silent as he stood and attempted another step, only to trip again.  The first couple of people moved out of his way (probably out of fear of falling themselves) so he slid a good portion of the slope on his stomach before a few had the sense to create a human barrier.  The whole time they  were helping  him find his way to the railing,  tourists watched in stony silence, unsure whether or not he was okay. It was then that a taller, distinguished looking Chinese man next to me giggled.

I was surprised and I looked at him to find he was looking back at me.  His mirth was genuine and my startled look made him laugh even harder.  It was contagious.  I cracked up (without letting go of the handrail). It was a deep belly laugh, a kind I hadn't had since I'd arrived in Beijing, and a few others laughed along with us.  Even the man who had tripped (and was now safely using the handrail) began laughing. You could feel the tension easing in the air.  The swarms of people didn't feel so overwhelming anymore. It was with a certain amount of camaraderie that I finished off my downhill descent and I'm grateful that it was somewhere as exciting as the Great Wall of China that I was able to learn a fundamental and universal truth: tripping is funny everywhere.