Let me tell you a story about my bicycle tour. I rode from Canada to Mexico along the Pacific Coast. I met a lot of people, but once, in Oregon, I met two groups of people who stood out to me particularly.
Now, when you're touring, you often encounter the same people repeatedly. This is because they're also touring. They camp with you, they set their sights on the same campground as you for the next day, and you all set off. Instantly, you separate, because of differences in pace, preference of breakfast, etc...
In any case, there were two groups that we rode with for multiple nights in Oregon, along Highway 101. This so happened to be one of the only sets of nights where it rained sporadically.
One group - a couple - had brand new gear. This was in 2011, and they each had 2010 Surly Long Haul Truckers (which are among the finest touring bikes available.) They had Lycra cycling gear, a solar-powered USB charger, a Garmin GPS device, helmet mirrors, waterproof panniers - the whole nine. They had everything a cycle tourist would salivate over. And each night, as we were riding together, we heard the same complaints from them.
"Oh my god. That last hill was BRUTAL. I can't believe how tall it was! I almost DIED when riding up it! Wasn't there a way to get around it?? On the map. There was that route to take that would've gone around it, wasn't there, Johnny?"
"No, Barbara, that was the ONLY WAY we could have gone. That other road went through a fenced-off property. We discussed this already. Maybe you wouldn't be so angry if you'd have just put your waterproof jacket on before it started raining again."
There was the other group of guys - a couple 20-something crust punk hipster kids. Neither of them had anything electronic. No GPS, no cell phones. They were riding 1970s bikes with no panniers at all -one had a backpack on and the other had his gear bungeed to the back of his bike. They were wearing street clothes - jeans and t-shirts.
Their conversation was more along the lines of...
"Oh my god, that view after that last climb was BREATHTAKING. Did you see the lighthouse after that tunnel? My GOD!"
"I know right? Holy shit dude! There's nothing like that in Ohio!"
"Dude Oregon is fucking beautiful! How many more days do we get to be here?"
Point is...how you perceive good and bad scenarios is much more dependent upon your personality than it is your actual scenarios you find yourself in. Now please don't take this to mean I am dismissing anyone who thinks they are having a hard time. I am merely stating that I, and other jovial people, fall into the category of people who'd spend a night after a day of rained-out bike riding talking about how awesome it was. It's a blessing, and one that I don't think is afforded to others consistently.
Point is, when I laugh at how depressed others are, I am not laughing at their displeasure. I am laughing at the absurdity of life. I am laughing in joy at the blessing that the gift of optimism has afforded me. And I am laughing, purely, 100% internally. Never outwardly. Never in the presence of people who are expressing displeasure. I am not tone-deaf. But inside, I am giddy.