Is there such a thing as an unlucky number?
Yesterday, my officemate and I were talking music like we normally do. It's one of our bonding points. We segued, and don't ask me how, from a discussion of the lack of musical merit of Audioslave to the greatness that is Jeff Buckley.
Granted I don't know much about Jeff Buckley, I was pretty convinced I knew he was dead and asked my officemate (MyOM) if my memory was correct.
MyOM: Yep, he died swimming in the Mississippi River down near Memphis.
Me: Swimming? Not drugs or suicide like so many others?
MyOM: Well, drugs were involved. Heroin, I think. I'm pretty sure he was 27. Bad number.
Me [looking at Wikipedia]: Actually, Wikipedia says he was 31. Why's 27 unlucky?
MyOM: Lots of musicians died at 27.
Me: Like who?
MyOM: Kurt Cobain...
I look on Wikipedia. Sho 'nuff, he died a little more than a month after his 27th birthday.
MyOM: Jim Morrison...
Yep, five months shy of 28.
MyOM: Janis Joplin...
Three months ahead of her 28th.
MyOM: And Jimi Hendrix.
Two months to go for Jimi.
Me: Geez. I had no idea. Guess you simply need to make it to 28 to really "make it" in the music industry.
MyOM: No kidding.
So, clearly, 27 is some seriously bad juju for musicians.
And, to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure what I find more disturbing, the fact that they all died at such a relatively young age or the knowledge that I've outlived all of them by five years and, yet, they achieved such exceptional levels of success.
But I'm still alive. And happy as hell to be out of that 27-year-old bracket.
TUA (Totally Unrelated Aside):
So, um, I've got this, er, "friend" who will be starting to take ballroom dancing classes with his lovely wife tonight at their local park district. Don't worry, it's nobody you know. Yeah, well, the two of them have this wedding coming up and they don't want to look stupid. And, being the good friend I am, I don't want them to look stupid either.
Well, anyway, he is a bit freaked out about it as the most experience he has with dance is grade school square dancing and watching a couple seasons of Dancing With the Stars. So,
I am... he is nervous. Really nervous. He has two left feet and all that jazz and is not quite sure what, um, he should wear both in terms of clothes and shoes. And I just thought I'd be a good friend, yeah, and pass on what you all say to, er, him... and his lovely wife, of course.