Why do people fear the number 13? It's just a number like any other. Okay, so it's a prime. And it's part of the Fibonacci sequence. So, for scientists, it's an interesting number.
But is it unlucky? No, of course not. It's all social programming here in the west - it isn't viewed as unlucky elsewhere.
Back in 2008 I was researching a book about luck. Sadly, it never happened. But, as part of the research I was deliberately doing things that are supposed to bring you good luck or bad luck and seeing if they actually made any difference to my life (spoiler alert - they didn't, other than finding the time to do things I wouldn't normally do like carry a rabbit's foot or walk under ladders).
One chapter was about numbers like 'Lucky 7' and 'Unlucky 13'. Here's an extract from that chapter:
__________________________________________________________________________________
'I’ll admit that I was finding it really difficult to orient my life around the number 13.
I knew that it would be difficult.
It’s not a number that occurs naturally is it? People don’t choose to meet at 9.13am – people choose tidy quarter or half divisions of the hour. Items you buy come in packs of two, five, eight, 10, 12, 15, 25, 50 … never 13s. There is always the famous ‘Baker’s Dozen’, of course, but you try to find a baker that sells anything in 13s. I couldn’t. The best I’d managed was buying loose items in 13s – like buying 13 potatoes or 13 assorted sweets from the pic‘n’mix.
One spectacular example of this took place at the deli counter of my local farm shop. I’d decided to ask for 13 slices of Wiltshire cure ham, thinking that I’d have no problem with that. But I hadn’t anticipated that the smiling hairy-cheeked man behind the counter would be a raving triskaidekaphobic.
“Thirteen you say?” he said, looking at me askance.
“Yes please.”
He nodded and started to count the slices out.
“Unlucky for some, eh?” he said. “I can add an extra slice just to make it up.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I said.
“Listen, it’s priced by the half pound”, he said. His hand was poised over the scales, a slice of ham hanging from his tongs like a flipper. “So I could put an extra thin slice on here and it won’t cost any more than a few pence extra.”
“Really, it’s fine. Thirteen slices is what I need.”
“Well, I’ll just throw the extra slice in for free shall I?”
“But that would still be 14 slices”, I said. “And I want 13. I have … er … 13 guests coming to dinner.”
A white lie but I was getting worried that I’d never get the rest of the shopping done.
“You’re giving them one slice of ham each?” said the man.
Actually that did seem a bit tight.
“It’s a starter”, I lied. “The recipe only needs one slice each.”
“Right”, said the man. “Well, you could eat the extra slice now. To make sure it’s okay.”
Fearing that I’d spend the rest of my life in front of his display cabinet, I eventually agreed and munched down the ham, which was very good.
“Nice?”
“Very nice”, I said. “Now, can I have 13 Kalamata olives please?”
At this point, he rolled his eyes, gave up all protest and served me in a minute flat.
It just goes to show how ingrained the whole unlucky 13 malarkey really is. He really did seem to be very uncomfortable serving me.
And the ripple effect goes way beyond objects sold in shops. I couldn’t find a flight of stairs anywhere with 13 steps.
Yes, sad as I am, I’d been counting. And many tall buildings don't have a 13th floor ... well, they do but they don't label it as such.
The next day I was due to meet with some potential Merseyside clients in London. I arranged the meeting for 1300 hrs (Look … I’m trying, ok?) and fitted another meeting into the morning at the Empress State Building in Earls Court. I’m told that, at 30 floors, it’s among the 20 tallest buildings in the UK. Certainly the views from the top are remarkable. My meeting was on the 15th floor but, to my delight, they had a 13th. So I got off there, asked a bemused passer-by to take a photo of me under the ‘13’ sign, and walked up the two remaining floors.
Esewhere, many buildings (including Canary Wharf) jump from 12 to 14 or have a 'Floor 12B' or un-named mezzanine floor.
Meanwhile, I’d discovered a curious fact about the number 13 and TV scheduling. Did you know that the normally triskaidekaphobic Americans usually commission TV shows in batches of 13? It has to do with syndication, where a show can be run continuously over 52 weeks of the year. Because of this, shows are ordered in divisibles of 52. Six months of programmes = 26 episodes. And three months = 13 episodes. Programmes made in the UK that we hope to sell to the US syndicates are now ordered the same way. When Doctor Who returned to our screens in 2005, for example, it was as a 13 episode season. Strange isn’t it? It had never occurred to me that 13 weeks is a quarter of a year. I wonder … would we regard 13 in the same way if society had adopted a calendar based upon quarters of 13 weeks rather than of three months? And, of course, the old lunar calendar that preceded the one we use now had 13 months as there are 13 lunar cycles - new moon to new moon - per year.
A few days later I was on the train to Liverpool. And all was all going swimmingly until we were unexpectedly diverted to Northampton because of overrunning engineering works. Upon arrival, passengers for Rugby were asked to get off and take the dreaded ‘Rail Replacement Bus’, which they dutifully and grumpily did. But, as we pulled away, there came the announcement that the engineering works were finished and that we’d be stopping at Rugby after all. You had to feel sorry for the poor sods who were now unnecessarily lurching across country in an uncomfortable and doubtless overcrowded bus. You can guarantee the heating was on full too, just to add to their discomfort, as it was freezing outside. I wonder what they did to earn such bad luck?
I arrived in good time and it was just a short walk through slippery slush from Lime Street Station to the Holiday Inn hotel. I tried asking for room 13 but was told that there wasn’t one. I wondered if any other room with superstitious significance was available? The lovely East European lady who dealt with me spoke very good English but maybe missed the gist of what I was asking for. She said that all room numbers were three digits long, the first relating to the floor it was on. That meant 7 or 77 were not available either and there wasn’t a 777 as there were only 139 rooms and the seventh floor didn’t have 77 rooms. By this point, the receptionist was starting to stare at me strangely. So I ended up with room 101 on the first floor. I took that as a win.'
__________________________________________________________________________________
It's shame that the book didn't appeal to publishers.
But it has left me much more knowledgeable about superstition.
And with a wealth of anecdotes and funny stories.
No comments:
Post a Comment