A Bad Case of Friggatriskaidekaphobia

More than seventeen million Americans suffer from friggatriskaidekaphobia, also known as paraskevidekatriaphobia, though they seldom admit it, mainly because they can’t pronounce it.

Loosely translated, paraskevidekatriaphobia means, “I’d like to buy a vowel, Pat.” I’m joking. Actually it’s a fear of Friday the 13th. And friggatriskaidekaphobia comes from two words: Frigga, the Norse goddess for whom Friday is named, and triskaidekaphobia, which is an irrational fear of large words.

Kidding again! Triskaidekaphobia is a fear of the number thirteen. But there is a word for the fear of large words. It’s hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia and I didn’t just make that up. I don’t have that much time.

If it weren’t for the cut and paste function on my computer I’d be writing about May Day instead. But this is an important and timely topic since we have a Friday the 13th coming up on, well, the Friday the 13th. We get one every time the month begins on Sunday and that can happen up to three times a year. So I think it’s high time we get our paraskevidekatriaphobia under control.

If you’re going to be afraid of a day it makes sense it would be Friday the 13th. Tuesday the 12th and Saturday the 5th just doesn’t have the historical baggage.

Friday’s bad rap may have its roots in Christian tradition. Jesus was crucified on a Friday, and some people think Eve gave Adam the apple on a Friday and that Cain killed Abel on a Friday. That seems like pure speculation to me though since the calendar hadn’t been invented yet.

Poor number thirteen has always had a bad reputation too, and through no fault of its own. Traditionally twelve is like a favorite child, perfect in every way. There are twelve months in a year, twelve signs of the zodiac and twelve days of Christmas. Somehow that makes thirteen less than perfect and even unlucky. By that logic fourteen on up should be downright dangerous. And why does eleven get off so easy?

Nevertheless, the result is high rises without thirteenth floors, airports without thirteenth gates and airplanes without thirteenth aisles. I don’t mean to worry anyone but I think the thirteenth floor is the thirteenth floor whether you call it the fourteenth or fifty-fifth. Calling it anything else makes a fool out of us and a liar out of the guy who puts the numbers on the elevator buttons.

There’s even an old superstition that says if you have thirteen letters in your name you’re cursed. Believers in this theory point out that many notorious murderers had names with thirteen letters in them. I would point out that many other notorious murderers didn’t. But there are Charles Manson, Jeffrey Dahmer, Theodore Bundy and Jack the Ripper though I doubt very much that Jack’s surname was “the Ripper.” And if it was it’s no wonder he turned out like he did.

Anyway, before I was married I also had thirteen letters in my name and I somehow managed to refrain from becoming a serial killer. I now have twelve letters and I’m as perfect as a dozen eggs just like Elvis Presley, Oprah Winfrey and Mother Teresa. Oh wait. Mother Teresa was born Anjezë Gonxhe Bojaxhiu, in case you ever get that question in Trivial Pursuit.

If you ask me the friggatriskaidekaphobia issue was made worse in 1980 with the release of the horror movie, Friday the 13th. That’s when the world was introduced to a hockey mask-wearing killer named Jason. I never saw the movie because I was afraid it would ruin Friday the 13th for me in the same way the movie Psycho ruined showers for me. Don’t worry, I still take them.

Whatever the reason, the fear of Friday the 13th has serious consequences. Millions of Americans suffer unnecessary anxiety and businesses suffer millions of dollars in lost revenue because so many people call in sick with a bad case of friggatriskaidekaphobia.

If you’re living in a friggatriskaidekaphobic prison of your own making, you could stay home on Friday the 13th, wrap yourself in bubble wrap, and play Scrabble using the new words you’ve just learned.

Or like me you could go about your business, confident that you’ll be as safe as you are any other day and maybe safer. With all the friggatriskaidekaphobes staying home there should be fewer people on the road.

I’d go so far as to say Friday the 13th is a lucky day. Most students would tell you any Friday is a lucky Friday. Most teachers too.

And if it’s the thirteen that’s bothering you consider the term “baker’s dozen.” You eat the extra doughnut in the car on the way home and the family doesn’t even suspect because they sent you out for a dozen. Lucky you.

Excerpted from Dorothy’s latest book, ‘Tis the Season to Feel Inadequate: Holidays, Special Occasions and Other Times Our Celebrations Get Out of Hand coming in November.