Here’s a $5 word to add to your lexicon: “paraskevidekatriaphobia,” derived from the Greek Paraskevi (Friday) and dekatrís (thirteen), with the suffix –phobia meaning, of course, “fear of.” Or, in other words, “fear of Friday the 13th.” (There is also the alternate, yet somehow cruder sounding, “friggatriskaidekaphobia,” from the Norse goddess Frigga, for whom “Friday” was named, appended to everyone’s favorite word triskaidekaphobia, the fear of the number 13.) Although most of us here in the Going Greenosphere likely eschew superstition and bad slasher movies, studies conducted by the Stress Management Center and Phobia Institute in Asheville, NC, have found that 17–21 million Americans suffer from this fear—some so debilitatingly that they will take off from work (but don’t most accidents happen at home?), put off flying or other travel, and basically hide. They also estimated an $800–$900 million loss in business due to this fear. Airlines notice some changed behavior on Friday the 13th. Via Via:

Continental Airlines spokeswoman Julie King says that Friday the 13th is likely to be as busy as any other Friday—but she goes on to say that none of Continental’s planes have a Row 13. Similarly, Delta Air Lines spokesman Anthony L. Black says that Friday the 13th is like all other hectic Fridays. But Delta ticket agent Cassandra Dozier says that at least twice a month passengers request to not be seated in Row 13, which the carrier does number on its planes.

Insert your own airline joke here... Still, in the history of aviation, has there ever been an airline disaster in which only one row was affected? On a plane, isn’t everyone pretty much in the same boat (as it were)? So where did this fear come from? First of all, the number 13 as we all know is believed to be an unlucky number—something like 80% of high-rises don’t even have a 13th floor (well, actually they do, it’s just called the “14th” floor, but what’s in a name?) and some airports avoid having a Gate 13 (although, quite frankly, I have yet to come across any airport gate that wasn’t unlucky for one reason or another). Folklorists have traced the unlucky 13 to Norse mythology, where the uninvited 13th guest at a “banquet of the gods” was the mischievous Loki who, for whatever reason, arranged to have Hoder, the blind god of darkness, shoot Balder the Beautiful, the god of joy and gladness (I’ve been to dinner parties like that). Ancient Romans believed that witches gathered in groups of 12, considering a 13th as the devil—but aren’t all witches basically satanic, except for Samantha Stevens? And, of course, in Christianity, there was the 13th guest at the Last Supper, Judas, who caused some problems. As a result, down through the years, it was generally felt that having 13 guests at a table was considered bad luck, perhaps because there were never enough rolls. As for Fridays bringing bad tidings, explanations vary (I’ve always thought Mondays were far worse), but the perception of Friday as foreboding something bad dates back at least to Chaucer (14th century), who wrote in The Canterbury Tales, “And on a Friday fell all this mischance.” Literary references to bad Fridays start to crop up with greater frequency around the 17th century, although I did once have a hamburger at a TGI Friday’s that was extremely unlucky. Or something. Conflating the number 13 with Friday seemed like a classic case of the “two bad tastes that taste worse together,” and it’s actually kind of surprising that it wasn’t until the 19th century that the first reference to “Friday the 13th” was recorded—in, of all places, an 1869 biography of Italian composer Gioachino Rossini:

Rossini was surrounded to the last by admiring and affectionate friends; and if it be true that, like so many other Italians, he regarded Friday as an unlucky day, and thirteen as an unlucky number, it is remarkable that on Friday, the 13th of November, he died [H. Sutherland Edwards, The Life of Rossini, p. 356].

But, like most of these things, it’s a matter of culture. Wikipedia tells us that in Spanish-speaking countries it’s Tuesday the 13th that is considered bad juju, while in Italy it’s Friday the 17th (despite what Edwards wrote above). And then the very bad 1981 Richard Benjamin spoof of horror movies, that I was unlucky enough to have seen, was called Saturday the 14th, and the TV show Psych’s send-up of slasher movies was called “Tuesday the 17th.” Make of that what you will. As for me, I will be isolated deep beneath the Earth in the Going Green Strategic Command Bunker and Delicatessen. Tell me how the day went. See you on Monday.