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One of the first times I took the path train (it's a light rail in NJ/NYC. Basically another subway line). I sit down, and an older guy in a suit sits down next to me. He's got like a box in a plastic bag in his lap. No big deal.
This was in like 2002. He didn't have a cell phone or earphones. Just sitting quietly, waiting for the train to leave.
He started to giggle. Little chuckles. And then escalated to full laughs. It rises and rises until he's like cackling. And then he calms down, reverses all the way through giggles and back to silence. Never said a word.
I don't know what was in the box. I didn't ask. I assume he just got away with a killer heist.
One time I got on the bus and there was a big sketchy-looking dude, definitely on something, sitting at the back laughing hysterically. Out of common sense I kept my distance at first, but I was kind of looking at him out of the corner of my eye to see what was going on, and I saw he was reading a book. This guy was literally almost rolling on the floor laughing, and I decided I have to find out what this book is.
Being a... not very large person myself this was sketchy, but he seemed to be oblivious to everything else around him so I sat opposite kind of close to see what book this jacked-up crackhead was losing his shit over. It was Bridget Jones' Diary. I still haven't read it but I think that's a good recommendation.