After I instructed pals I’d be attending a wilderness survival class in Brooklyn’s very busy, very city Prospect Park, laughter was nearly a reflex. And certain, okay, I get why—the borough’s bustling model of Central Park, right here sunny Sundays are full of picnickers, pee-wee soccer video games, and, on this explicit weekend, a breast most cancers consciousness march. There’s a skating rink, a pond only for four-legged pals, and it’s commonplace to see unicyclists having their means with the bike path. Which is all to say: It’s not someplace you’ll sometimes go to hone your rugged outside abilities. And sure, I rolled up with an oat milk latte, and…