Happy Superstition Day! Happy Friday the 13th!

Honestly, I’m not really a superstitious person. I think black cats are beautiful, not evil. I’ve stepped on plenty of cracks and my mother’s back is still intact. I’ve walked under a ladder or 2 and nothing happened. I’ve mistakenly dropped mirrors and it didn’t result in bad luck. (I have young, stupid decisions to blame for that!)  I’ve said Bloody Mary AND Candyman in the mirror 5 times and I’m still here!

Most of the superstitious things I’ve done or do are out of respect for my elders, not fear. Okay, well, once it was to get rid of a boyfriend (and I use THAT term loosely) who just wasn’t going away fast enough! Granted it was practically over anyway, I figured it couldn’t hurt to try to speed things up, you know? The superstition goes that if you buy a man shoes, he’ll walk out of your life. I think it worked! It was another year before the relationship finally ended, but who’s to say it wouldn’t have been TWO more years if I hadn’t given him that nice pair of dress shoes for his birthday? (*rolling eyes* Women! We can quit a diet, but will hang on to a man in the hope that he’ll magically become one because of our love! We. Are. Ridiculously. Hopeful!)

So, maybe I AM superstitious. I bury money every New Year’s Eve and dig it up New Year’s Day to ensure I have money all year, because my Grandmother insisted I oblige her in this customary act since elementary school.  (Of course, once you’re an adult and you have a job, that supersition loses clout!) I eat collards, black-eyed peas (which I LOATHE) cooked with a penny in the pot and pork on New Year’s Day for good luck, good health and prosperity in the new year.  I always say “Break a leg” instead of “good luck” before stage performances. I never place my purse on the ground (or else you’ll lose all your money). *surprised gasp* Why those smart, sneaky and crafty old people! They converted me and I didn’t even realize it!!!

Back to the point! Let’s face it! Friday the 13th is nothing to fear. There are no monsters. You can go swimming and have sex if you’d like. Smoke, drink and split pairs all day at the casino. And for Heaven’s sake, leave your home if you need to go somewhere! Nothing’s gonna happen on Friday the 13th, right? Maybe I should rephrase that. Nothing uniquely unstaged and unorchestrated by sick minds is gonna happen on Friday the 13th, right?

Wait! That’s not exactly true either. I CAN recall ONE scary and eventful Friday the 13th in my life. Nearly 4 years ago. In the middle of a war zone. In the Middle Eastern desert. My friends know this story well. I think my friend, Carol, enjoys this story more than anyone! She’s even asked for it in writing! LOL

The story you’re about to read is entirely true. I haven’t changed my name or the assassin’s name to protect either of us. No facts have been ommitted or exaggerated.

Date: Friday, August 13, 2010.  Place: Balad, Iraq. Time: About 1:30PM. Temperature: 118 F.

So, I’m in the port-a-potty this fine, sweltering afternoon (I’m sure you’re already thinking; ‘this can’t end well’) and I reach for the tissue. To my surprise, there’s a transparent spider about the size of a nickel on it. (Here’s where things go awry…). I shriek and fling the tissue. In my excitement, though, I flung it in the wrong direction. (Wrist flicks are tricky motions in moments of fear and certain death!) He lands somewhere between my legs. Now, I’m faced with a tough dilemna: grab a new roll of tissue or look for the spider. I quickly grab new tissue and then frantically search my open jeans that are still bundled around my ankles. I fail to find said spider. I’m so absolutely certain at this point that this poisonous Iraqi creature is in my jeans, that you couldn’t have PAID me to believe he was NOT! Oh! Those sneaky, dress-wearing bastards! They’ve trained EVERYTHING over here for warfare!!!!!

As you know there’s not much room in a port-a-potty to even do what it is you went in to do in the first place–much less anything else! But I HAD to get this venomous Iraqi arachnid (try saying that 5 times!) out of my jeans! So, I proceed to stand on top of the toilet and begin to take off my jeans in order to shake the spider out. I get my right leg out and as I’m preparing to shift my weight to get the left leg out, my foot plants itself in the urinal portion of the port-a-potty. NOW, not only is there an unfamiliar type of spider out for my certain death, but I’m half naked in a port-a-potty with my bare right leg crooked up with the front of my shoe securely lodged in the urinal.

I start trying to yank my foot out of the urinal and the port-a-potty shifts a bit. That’s when I realize…this is it! This is how it all ends! I can see the headline: “Army Contractor Dies In Iraq–half naked–from a spider bite–in a port-a-potty.” Not a mortor. Not an IED. Not a suicide bomber. But a damn spider. In a port-a-potty. Half naked! Oh God! And what about the crime scene photos? Me slumped upside down (by the time they find my lifeless body) with my leg cocked and twisted up in the urinal portion?!

I decide I’m way too vain to go out like this!

I begin to very carefully force my shoe out of the urinal– stopping every few seconds due to the rocking and shaking.

Did I mention I’m right beside one of the base runways? So, not only is my own weight rocking the port-a-potty and splashing that nasty blue water mixed with…well…you know; but huge military C-17’s,  C-130’s, fighter jets and helicopters are landing and taking off– ALSO shaking the potty…and blue water. I FINALLY get my foot out, decide it’s time to abort “Operation Jean Shake” and just get the hell out of the port-a-potty! I have no clue what happened to the spider.

So, on second thought—there ARE forces against us out there on Friday the 13th! Stay at home! Don’t swim! Don’t have sex! Don’t drink! Don’t smoke! Don’t split pairs! Run like hell from the monsters, yall, and don’t look back or you’ll fall! Don’t use the bathroom until 12:01am! And damn sure don’t use a port-a-potty today!

Till next time…

Happy Friday the 13th!