There are days that drift by quietly, politely playing their role on emails and our calendar, and then there is Friday the 13th, which arrives like the Grim Reaper clutching a black scythe and whispering, “Something’s about to happen.” It is a date so thoroughly soaked in superstition that even the most rational among us will briefly hesitate before walking under a ladder or booking a flight…just in case.
So what exactly is going on with this famously unlucky day, and why has it stuck around so stubbornly? Let’s take a meander through the background, the examples, and the strange things we still do because of it.
The origins are a bit of a historical mash-up, which is always a promising start. Friday as a day has long had a slightly grim reputation in parts of Western culture. It was traditionally associated with executions and, according to Christian tradition, the crucifixion of Jesus is said to have taken place on a Friday. Then we have the number 13, which has been treated with suspicion for centuries, largely because it spoils the neatness of 12. Twelve months, twelve zodiac signs, twelve apostles. Thirteen just barges in and refuses to match the curtains.
A quick detour at this point, as those of you who know me are aware I may do from time to time!
The phrase “baker’s dozen” simply means thirteen items instead of twelve, and its origin comes from a very practical bit of medieval business behaviour rather than anything mystical.
In medieval England, bread was tightly regulated by a law called the Assize of Bread and Ale, introduced during the reign of Henry III in the 1200s. This law controlled the weight and price of bread to stop bakers from overcharging or selling loaves that were underweight. Penalties for breaking the rules could be severe, including fines or even harsher punishments.
Because of this, bakers developed a cautious habit. When they sold bread in bulk to retailers, they would include an extra loaf for every dozen. That way, if any individual loaf happened to be slightly underweight, the total batch would still meet or exceed the required weight. It was a simple way to avoid penalties and keep inspectors happy.
So if a customer or merchant ordered 12 loaves, the baker would hand over 13. Over time, that extra loaf became known as the “baker’s dozen.”
The phrase has stuck ever since, and today it is just a friendly way of saying thirteen of something, usually with the faint suggestion of a little bonus thrown in for good measure.
So back to Friday and the number 13, put these two together and you get a date that people began to side-eye. The idea gained extra traction in the early 20th century when writers and newspapers began to lean into the drama. By then, the superstition had already taken root, and modern culture happily watered it.
The fear even has a name, because of course it does. Paraskevidekatriaphobia. If you can pronounce that without spraining your tongue, you deserve a badge !
Culturally, Friday the 13th has had a good run in entertainment too. The horror franchise Friday the 13th gave us one of the most recognisable masked villains in cinema, Jason Voorhees. He is not exactly the poster boy for calm, rational decision-making, but he has done wonders for cementing the date’s eerie reputation. It is difficult to take a casual stroll by a lake cabin on that date without mentally checking for hockey masks in the bushes.
There are also plenty of real-world examples of people taking the superstition very seriously. Some hotels skip room 13. Some buildings skip the 13th floor entirely, jumping straight from 12 to 14 as if nobody will notice. Airlines have been known to avoid row 13 on planes. In business, some people delay major decisions, launches, or deals because they would rather not risk it on that particular day. Statistically, there is no solid evidence that more bad things happen on Friday the 13th than on any other day, but tell that to someone who has just dropped their toast butter-side down while the smoke alarm goes off.
In everyday life, the examples get even better. People will avoid walking under ladders, step carefully around cracks in the pavement, and treat black cats like they are either harbingers of doom or adorable little chaos gremlins, depending on their mood. You can watch otherwise sensible adults say things like, “I’m not superstitious, but I’m just going to wait until tomorrow to send that email.” It is a masterclass in hedging one’s bets.
There is also a social element to it. Friday the 13th has become a shared cultural joke. Offices might have a bit of fun with it. Friends send each other messages along the lines of “Stay safe out there,” as if we are all about to embark on a mildly cursed expedition to the supermarket. It is a day where people collectively lean into a bit of theatrical unease, and that shared wink is part of the appeal.
Psychologically, it is quite understandable. Humans are pattern-seeking creatures. We like stories, causes, and neat explanations. A date like Friday the 13th offers a tidy narrative: if something goes wrong, we have something to blame that is not ourselves, our planning, or sheer random chance. It gives us a sense of control, even if that control is expressed through avoiding ladders and muttering at numbers.
In reality, Friday the 13th is just a date. It behaves exactly like any other Friday. People go to work, make dinner, forget to take the bins out, and scroll their phones a bit too long before bed. The only real difference is that we are slightly more alert to anything that goes wrong, because we are expecting it. If your coffee spills on a normal Tuesday, it is annoying. If it spills on Friday the 13th, it becomes evidence.
So what is the best way to handle it? With a bit of humour and a dash of common sense. If you want to avoid ladders and high-stakes decisions for 24 hours, go for it. If you want to book a holiday, sign a contract, and adopt a black cat on the same day, that is also perfectly fine. The day only has as much power as we give it.
At its heart, Friday the 13th is a brilliant example of how stories, culture, and a few historical quirks can combine into something that feels far more significant than it actually is. It is a shared myth, a tiny annual festival of mild dread and playful superstition.
And if nothing else, it gives us all a very good excuse to blame the calendar when we trip over absolutely nothing in the middle of the living room.
