Setting: New Year’s Eve, Toronto. Snow gently falls outside. In a cozy apartment, two friends — Maya, the superstitious one, and Raj, the rational thinker — sip hot chocolate and prepare for the countdown.
Maya: (peeking nervously at the front door) Okay, Raj, just remember — you can’t be the first one through that door tomorrow.
Raj: (raising an eyebrow) Why not? Did I forget to take my shoes off last time or something?
Maya: No! Because you’re not a tall, dark-haired man carrying coal, bread, and coins. That’s who’s supposed to step in first on New Year’s Day — otherwise the whole year’s luck goes kaput.
Raj: Wait, hold up. So you’re telling me the universe’s plans for 2025 hinge on whether Dwayne Johnson with a loaf of rye walks into your house first?
Maya: It’s tradition! It’s called first-footing. My grandma in Nova Scotia swore by it. She once made Uncle Rob stand outside in freezing weather until midnight because he had dark hair and fit the “lucky” profile.
Raj: (laughs) That sounds more like frostbite than fortune.
Maya: I’m serious! The year she broke the rule — let in Aunt Paula first — we had burst pipes, the cat ran away, and I got food poisoning from an expired pierogi.
Raj: Okay, but hear me out. You think all that happened because of who stepped through the door first?
Maya: Coincidence? I think not.
Raj: I think very much yes. That’s classic confirmation bias. You remember the bad years that match the rule and forget the good years that didn’t. It’s like blaming your umbrella for rain.
Maya: You and your science. Just admit it — there’s a charm in traditions. It’s not always about data. Sometimes it’s about the vibe, the energy.
Raj: I’m not against tradition. I put on a Santa hat and sing along to Wham! But there’s a difference between fun rituals and believing cosmic luck is delivered via someone holding bread like a door-to-door bakery god.
Maya: (grinning) Okay, that was funny. But still — bread means we’ll never go hungry, coal for warmth, and coins for wealth. It’s symbolic.
Raj: I’ll give you that — symbols can be comforting. But wouldn’t it be more effective to just check your insulation, keep an emergency fund, and meal-prep?
Maya: You’re such a buzzkill, Raj.
Raj: Only because I care! Imagine if instead of waiting for “Lucky Liam” at the door, we focused on what we can control. Like setting goals, budgeting, you know — grown-up stuff.
Maya: You sound like a TED Talk. Still, I like the idea of both: rituals and planning. Insurance with a side of superstition.
Raj: Fair. So how about this — I’ll stay in my room tomorrow morning, and we’ll ask your neighbor’s son — what’s his name, Julian? Tall, dark hair, brooding?
Maya: Exactly! He even looks like a Disney prince. I’ll bribe him with cookies.
Raj: Deal. And after he walks in with his symbolic carb haul, we make a real list of goals. Like actual grown-ups.
Maya: Deal. But I’m still buying the lucky bamboo, just in case.
Raj: Fine. But if it starts talking, I’m out.
Science Vs Superstition 
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