Ladders, Bad Luck & *the dEviL*

I don’t consider myself an overly superstitious person, but I know that I am wary of these so-called “Old Wives’ Tales.” A black cat crossing your path can never be a good thing, spilling the salt should always be followed with an appropriate counter-measure, umbrellas ought to be opened outdoors only. However, I have broken a mirror within the past 7 years without consequently burying its pieces in the moonlight and I have not been plagued by bad luck. I also have put on a wedding gown before being engaged and still hope that someday I’ll be married. On the other hand, the only race Joyant didn’t win was the race I was invited to be on board, and we all blamed the loss on the bad luck women bring on boats.

One of the most infamous superstitions is that walking under a ladder brings nothing but bad luck. Due to my own personal past experiences, I’m now convinced that this is a load of shit. I’ve had nothing but good experiences after walking under ladders.

Of course, they say that walking under a ladder puts you in league with the devil, and maybe that’s my problem. Most people assume being in league with the devil brings you naught but bad things. What do they know? The devil is way more fun.

So maybe walking under a ladder without regret signs you up for some Faustian contract.

See, in late October Tony and I were walking around Martha’s Vineyard. Tony, being a boatman, is familiar in all sorts of superstitions and takes great care to avoid anything that may bring bad luck. We strolled down the shop-lined streets and, passing in front of a card store with toy sailboats on display, I stepped directly under a ladder… while someone was on top of it. The man on top looked down at me as I stood mid-motion below and I smiled back at him, literally pausing before my foot touched the ground.

In my head I thought of all the warning, of how much bad luck this was sure to bring. In that split second I seriously considered moving in reverse, directly changing my flow to put my foot back behind me and stop the passage through that sacred triangle.

But it was too late. I couldn’t stop my momentum. I walked directly under the ladder.

Tony screamed at me. I shuddered, told him I considered stopping mid-step. “You should have!!!” But I didn’t. So I smiled and shook my head, laughing it off without thinking too much about it. Later that day I found a much-needed $20 bill blowing around the parking lot. There was no one else around, no one I could even ask to see if someone had lost their money. I kept it. Maybe that was the devil – I gained from someone else’s loss.

Sucks to be them? Hey – it was only $20!

Today I had an interview at the bar down the street. I need cash and I think this will be a good way to get some. I dressed up nice and made my way there, carefully reviewing drink-recipes in my head. As I passed through the door inside and walked toward the second floor where interviews were being held, I noticed – again, halfway through – that I was passing below a ladder.

I couldn’t let it deter me, though. I puckered my lipsticked lips and marched up the stairs emanating attitude. They were generally excited to see me. “Catherine!” they shouted across the room, reaching out hands and spitting out kind greetings. I was flattered they remembered me.

I took a seat across from them and noticed on the application I filled out however many weeks ago, written in the same pen they used to make a note that day, the big word of “HIRE!” Apparently I already got the job.

Maybe working as a cocktail waitress/bartender and promoting drunkenness and flirting is also in league with the devil. But it sure is fun.

After asking me what position I’d like and explaining how there’s a test for bartenders, the manager said to me: “You know, a girl like you would be an amazing bartender.” In his eyes – and the chef’s as well – I knew what they were thinking. Personal. Friendly. Quick. Big boobs. Perfect!

I declined the offer (for now) after hearing that they’ll be staffing four or five bartenders at night. There’s nothing worse than working an over-staffed bar. But we’ll see how it goes – they told me I can start with whatever position I want and change around as I so please. Either way they were psyched to have me join their team, watched me strut out of the bar with looks of content on their faces, and apparently walking under a ladder does nothing but bring you good things… I just wonder at what cost.


*“I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints; the sinner’s are much more fun!”