Odd Skeptic Out

Last night I was over at a friend’s house (we’ll call her “S”) for dinner. At some point (I forget how) the conversation wandered over to Edgar Cayce. S told a brief story in which Cayce was about to enter a crowded elevator but, seeing that all the occupants’ auras were dead or dim or something, decided to wait for the next one. The story concludes with the elevator falling, and everyone inside dying horribly. But Cayce was safe, ’cos of his second sight.

Last night I was over at a friend’s house (we’ll call her “S”) for dinner. At some point (I forget how) the conversation wandered over to Edgar Cayce. S told a brief story in which Cayce was about to enter a crowded elevator but, seeing that all the occupants’ auras were dead or dim or something, decided to wait for the next one. The story concludes with the elevator falling, and everyone inside dying horribly. But Cayce was safe, ‘cos of his second sight.

Okay. There are several questions to ask at this point. At the top of the list, of course, are “Did this really happen?” and “How do you know?” And also, “So Cayce just saved his own ass and let everybody else die? Well, good for him, I guess.” But I didn’t say anything. Part of me didn’t want to offend (S is a dear friend, and I was a guest in her home). Part of me figured I probably wouldn’t be changing any minds (there were a couple of people nodding along, though I don’t know if they were just being polite) and it’d just be wasted energy. And, well, I’m just not that quick on my feet. By the time I got beyond raising a skeptical eyebrow, the conversation had moved on. I do a lot better when I get urban legends in my email. Then I can take a minute or two to gather my thoughts, check my favourite debunking sites (Skeptic’s Dictionary and The Urban Legends Reference Pages, if you’re curious) and carefully craft a reply.

A little thing, maybe, but it’s not the first time it happened to me. It soured the rest of the evening a little, and it’s been bugging me all day. Should I have said something? Or not? In a way, it feels like being in the closet, and gathering the energy to come out as a skeptic. (And, funny thing, everybody at the party knows I’m gay, but I don’t know how much they know about my nonbelief). Sigh. So, I’m venting here. Isn’t that what personal sites are for? At least I’ll be better prepared next time.