Apocalyptic Stupidstition

Superstition is stupid. That's why I call it stupidstition. As a child I learned all the superstitions of my parents' generation; not that my parents believed in them, but I knew them. Walking under a ladder, having a black cat cross your path, spilling salt, two people walking and having a vertical object pass between them, rabbit's feet, breaking a mirror, the number 13, etc. I've also experienced the stupidstitions of sports fans and players. Wearing dirty underwear during a winning streak until their team loses, lucky jerseys, players not stepping on the foul line and all the rest. Then there's the apocalyptic stupidstition.

A few years ago I went out to lunch with a friend from work to a deli. I ordered, and I'm sure it was an uncommon combination of items, then made it to the register. The cashier rang up my order and declared to me the amount. I could simultaneously feel several conversations of people in line behind me abruptly stop and also a number of people behind me take a collective step backward. It was an odd feeling, but I knew exactly what it was. The cashier immediately declared, "I can add an item to change the total if you'd like." "No," I replied, "I'm not superstitious."

The cause? My total was $6.66. Six dollars and sixty six cents. That's 666. The number of the beast. The anti-christ. That my lunch total showing up on the register could cause people to step away from me in fear says a lot about a generation of people who ridicule my parents' generation for their idiotic superstitions. They aren't any different.