When 'Funny' Is Painful (Part 2)

Since writing the previous episode, I remembered another time when things were painful.

It happened at my previous job (I will refrain from saying which workplace it was). There was a temporary employee named O-san. O-san's glasses were positioned abnormally low; they weren't on the bridge of their nose, but were barely hanging on at the very tip. I was personally fascinated by that exquisite balance, as if they could slide off at any moment.

During a break one day, another employee spoke to me.
“The way O-san wears their glasses is like Nagatanien, isn't it?”
“You're right.”
We laughed heartily while saying things like that, and the topic ended there.

Work ended that day, and I was on my way home. I was swaying on the train alone, gazing blankly out the window, when the correct answer suddenly descended into my mind.
“It’s not Nagatanien, it’s Momoya.”
The moment I realized that, a fierce wave of laughter washed over me again. The exquisite mistake of my colleague who said Nagatanien, and my own stupidity for laughing along and fully agreeing without a single doubt. Furthermore, the fact that the conversation had somehow been perfectly coherent despite being wrong. The moment these pieces fit together like a puzzle, I found myself suffering alone on a nearly full train.

In the previous university classroom, I was in a situation where I had a comrade next to me, but this time I was completely alone. Even though they weren't in the same space, I wanted to share this as soon as possible, so I sent an email to my colleague.
“It’s not Nagatanien, it’s Momoya.”
Even after that, the more I desperately tried to think about other things, the more O-san's low glasses position would pop into my head. The act of holding back laughter alone on a train was a battle just as lonely and painful as that silent English class, or perhaps even more so.

In the end, for the several dozen minutes until I reached my nearest station, I focused all my energy on biting the inside of my mouth and steadying my breathing.

It seems that the truly funny moments in life can sometimes be born from a slight misunderstanding. If my colleague had said Momoya from the start, I probably wouldn't have suffered this much.

It was the moment another piece of information was added to my memories of life that are so funny they are painful.