I met Laura at work, shelving books, organizing the cafe menu bar scanner options, and discussing her ongoing OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). As my fifteenth participant, she gave me very specific instructions about her $22 contribution. $1 was for her, $3 to sponsor three other people, and the remaining $18 were to be turned into nine $2 bills to be handed out as I went about the journey. 

She mentioned that she had a story she would tell me about the significance and luck she found in $2 bills and I’ve decided that I would like to share her story in her own words (with some slight editing where I was not quite quick enough to take extensive notes). 

“So I’m a bit obsessive compulsive, and by ‘a bit,’ I mean ‘a lot.’ 

When I’m tapping my fingers, I’m tapping out numbers. It’s not right to left; there’s an order to it. I’ve always loved the number nine. I hated even numbers with a passion. If I was counting and ended on a positive number, I would have to go back and recount it. It was like that until my dad was dying of brain cancer.

It was pretty aggressive and he died very quickly. While he was sick, my then-boyfriend asked me to go to Atlantic City to see Tom Jones to get away from the situation. I couldn’t stop thinking, What if something happens to my dad? I shouldn’t go. 

While I was there, I put a $20 dollar bill on two and twenty-two and I made 600 dollars! I brought a 100 dollar chip to my dad (he was fiercely anti-gambling) because I thought that was lucky, especially after moving here to Las Vegas. 

My dad was a scientist, never discussed afterlives or other froofy things, and he would have called me a goddamn fool if he hadn’t been so sick for bringing him that expensive chip. Now though 222 or 227 will always come up on the numbers when I walk by in a casino and I know it’s a random occurrence, but it feels like a cosmic wave. 

When I would go into the bank, I started asking the cashiers if they had any $2 bills. I would start handing them out. It’s a fun and quirky thing to give people.

I would give a couple to valets. I give them to people because I care about them. A friend of mine was in town and I won 200 dollars and I got them all in $2 dollar bills. It was so dumb and exciting, a cosmic high five with my dad who’s gone. 

There’s a certain poetry to my OCD. It can be a gift and a curse. I have this opposite feeling now with even numbers; it’s not a working thesis, but I feel like it’s saying ‘Be open to the universe.’

It’s so unusual that it causes a double take. It’s a consciousness disruptor. When I see those numbers, I have a moment of presence with my dad. It’s a conversation starter. Nine, two, twenty-two, it’s my order, it’s not an order. Isn’t it funny that you have those opinions? How can a number bother you? 

Resources are so poorly and inequitably distributed. From you especially, this project seems like it’s about fellowship. It’s humanity versus spirituality. You’re more rooted in the here and now and the more people you’re connected to, the less inclined we are to be in our own heads. The more exposed you are to who people are, there can be these beautiful moments, like handing out a $2 bill.” 

I love the idea of a “consciousness disruptor;” a simple moment to change a moment in time. When I ask both random strangers and people I know to be part of this project, the asking for the $1 is the consciousness disruptor, the interaction that normally would not be taking place. We would typically pass each other like ships in the night, leading our lives separately. In the asking lies a chance to connect and to get to know each other in a very small way. It can be brief or potentially a lifelong friendship (especially if they go on to read these words). There’s no telling where the moment will go or how long it will linger. 

I told Laura that I personally have always hated the number six, for no reason that I can think of. I love the number seven because it’s my birthday and a symbol of luck. I have also always divided the time on the clock to its smallest fraction i.e. 10:02 into 5 (2 goes into 10, 5 times). Or if the number is 10:13, knowing that it’s almost 10:14 (which would be 5/7ths). I hadn’t shared that story ever; it’s just one way that I navigate the world. And in this conversation over the phone, I found the perfect person to share it with. 

As for the nine $2 bills, I haven’t figured out how I would like to pass them out yet. If you have any ideas, please leave comments in the section below.