Many people, like co-worker Jiggy, are superstitious and adherent to all laws ghoulish. I assure you, this man has a Friday the 13th poster prominently displayed on his desk. Aside from my affinity for Silence of the Lambs, I’m not one of them. Rather, I wasn’t one of them until I came down with the stomach bug from hell on Friday — yes, Friday the 13th.
It was supposed to be a great day. Mets pitchers and catchers reported to camp, meaning we’d get to feast on about a month’s worth of all those tasty Spring Training cliches before fantasy drafts get under way. Since I had to work on Saturday, Nenny and I were to celebrate Valentine’s Day on Friday. I had a lovely evening planned: a nice dinner and the most recent reboot of — you guessed it — Friday the 13th (she’s more into slasher flicks than I am, strangely). Romantic? Perhaps not, but when you’re dating a girl who prefers horror and sci-fi to chick flicks, you gladly take it.
I even did the responsible thing for once in my life, actually making dinner reservations ahead of time (gasp!) and bought the movie tickets in advance so as to avoid being turned away when the theatre was overrun by middle schoolers for the 9:20 p.m. show.
But it was all for naught; within the first few minutes of reaching the restaurant, I had to inform Nenny that I wasn’t for long. Since I had picked her up, I couldn’t go straight home, and I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to drop her off and drive home before I had to answer to the porcelain gods. Getting a refund for the movie tickets was impossible since I couldn’t muster the strength nor gastrointestinal stability to crawl out of bed and drive to the theatre. All in all, Nenny, who’s long bemoaned her Valentine’s Day history as unfortunate, at best, got to spend her Valentine’s Day taking care of me while I made her bed my final resting place.
Luckily, the bug ran its course in about 24 hours. I worked Saturday night from 6:00 p.m. to 2 a.m., sheepishly asking Jiggy to take it as easy on me as possible with assignments since I was still enduring some fever, chills, and aches and pains. He said it was not a problem.
Aware of his superstitions, I asked Jiggy if he took any preventative measures to ensure his safety on Friday the 13th — you know, staying in bed, reciting pagan prayers, sacrificing farm animals. He replied simply that he wore his skull pendant and got through the day without incident. I think I’ll look into that.
For the record, we did eventually see Friday the 13th (that’s about $50.00 on a third-gen slasher rehash, for those of you counting at home) Sunday night at an IMAX, but you tend to appreciate the small things in life like holding down Raisinets and Sprite when you’ve stared death in the face.