The number 13, especially Friday the 13th, is considered unlucky

[Scene: A cozy Berlin café on a cloudy Friday morning. A blackboard sign near the counter cheerfully reads “Happy Friday the 13th! Free croissant if you say ‘Ich fürchte nichts!’”]

Anja: (staring at the sign and grimacing)
Ugh. Why would they celebrate Friday the 13th? It’s like asking for bad luck. I nearly tripped over my own shoelace this morning. Classic omen.

Lena: (chuckling while sipping her cappuccino)
Anja, you trip over your shoelace at least twice a week. That’s not an omen, that’s just… physics and a lack of double knots.

Anja:
Ha-ha. Laugh all you want. But you can’t deny weird stuff always happens to me on this date. Remember last year? My bike tire popped, I spilled currywurst all over my new coat, and my date ghosted me.

Lena:
And let me guess—he texted back the next day and said he lost his phone?

Anja:
Nope. Said his cat knocked over a mirror and then he stepped on a Lego. Bad luck all around. See? It spreads!

Lena:
Anja, this is classic confirmation bias. You remember all the bad Fridays that fall on the 13th and ignore the boring or even good ones. What about that Friday the 13th when we found that amazing vintage record store in Kreuzberg?

Anja:
Okay, fine, that was a good day… but maybe that was just the universe giving me a break before the next disaster.

Lena: (grinning)
You sound like my students trying to justify bad exam scores with Mercury retrograde. Seriously though—there’s no scientific evidence that 13 is unlucky. It’s just a number. In fact, some cultures think it’s lucky!

Anja: (raising an eyebrow)
Yeah? Where?

Lena:
Italy, for one. In Italy, they fear 17, not 13. In China, 8 is lucky because it sounds like “wealth.” It’s all cultural. Even in hotels, the missing 13th floor isn’t for safety—it’s just because people like you wouldn’t want to stay there.

Anja:
And do you blame us? Elevators that skip numbers are a red flag. It’s like the building knows something.

Lena: (laughing)
It knows you’re superstitious. But hey, if avoiding floor 13 gives you peace of mind, that’s fine. I just don’t think we should treat it like some cosmic rulebook.

Anja:
You’d feel differently if you’d ever had a pigeon poop on you and lost your keys on a Friday the 13th.

Lena:
That happened on a Tuesday, remember? We had to break into your apartment with a coat hanger.

Anja: (groans and laughs)
Damn. You’re right. Okay, okay—you win on facts. But superstition makes life more… colorful. A little mystery, a little drama.

Lena:
True. And to be fair, even scientists knock on wood sometimes. But maybe instead of dreading today, you should embrace it. Let it be your “opposite day”—do something bold, maybe even lucky.

Anja:
Like what? Buy a lottery ticket?

Lena:
Sure, why not? You’ve got just as much chance of winning today as any other day. Which is to say… very little. But still!

Anja: (smirking)
Alright, Ms. Rational. If I win, I’m treating you to dinner on the 13th floor of Berlin’s fanciest hotel.

Lena:
Deal. And if not, I’ll buy you another croissant—no black cats, no ladders, just carbs and science.

Anja: (laughs, raising her coffee cup)
To Friday the 13th—may it surprise us both.

Lena:
Cheers. And may your shoelaces stay tied.