Sam: Right, Emma, before you finish setting the table—count the chairs.
Emma: (laughs) I don’t need to count. I put enough for everyone—there’s thirteen of us.
Sam: Thirteen? Oh no, no, no. That’s terrible luck! You can’t seat thirteen people at a table.
Emma: (rolling eyes) Here we go again. Sam, it’s just a number. Thirteen won’t suddenly summon disaster along with the shepherd’s pie.
Sam: Don’t mock it. There’s history behind this. Judas was the thirteenth guest at the Last Supper. And look how that turned out.
Emma: Yes, but by that logic, should we also avoid bread and wine? Because, if I recall, those were there too.
Sam: You’re being cheeky. But you’ve got to admit, whenever thirteen people sit together, something bad happens.
Emma: Really? Because last Christmas at Mum’s, there were thirteen of us. The only thing that happened was Uncle Dave falling asleep before dessert.
Sam: Exactly! He nearly choked on the pudding before nodding off.
Emma: Sam, that was because he had three helpings of roast potatoes and washed it down with half a bottle of sherry, not because of the number of chairs.
Sam: Still… you can’t be too careful. Why tempt fate?
Emma: I think it’s the opposite. If you’re so worried about it, you’ll notice every tiny thing that goes wrong and blame it on the thirteen. It’s psychology, not fate.
Sam: So you’re saying it’s all in my head?
Emma: Pretty much. Think about planes—lots of them don’t even have a row 13 because of superstition. But turbulence happens whether you’re sat in row 12, 14, or 37.
Sam: Fair point… but if I sit at a table with thirteen, I just can’t relax.
Emma: Tell you what—we’ll stick a chair against the wall with a teddy bear in it. Then technically, there’ll be fourteen at the table.
Sam: (laughs) That actually makes me feel better.
Emma: See? Problem solved. You can keep your tradition, and we can still eat on time. Though I’m not sure the teddy likes sprouts.
Sam: Don’t joke—better him than me.
Science Vs Superstition 
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