I can't help it either, the laughing: solemn gatherings, slow ballads, pompous orations, any person or occasion that assumes I'll offer my unreserved respect: I tend to find them all hysterical in the end. Especially if someone similar is there to set me off. They don't have to do much: I recognize what it looks like when somebody's composure starts to strip itself away. They'll maybe cross their arms with that twitchy, shaky, tension, or they'll grab down little wheezes of embarrassed air, or they'll simply hood their faces under their palm, trying to hide how fast they're slipping, how fast *we're* slipping, because I'll be weakening with them by then, I'll be just as lost, pulled equally tight against the moment when we both stop caring and let it disgrace us -- when we laugh.
