Don't know, but I've had an inexplicable fear of the number 13 lately. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to throw salt over my shoulder for writing that.
A three digit area code is required where I am, so it defeats the purpose since "867" isn't a number that fits the area. There are cool stories about the hell people have gone through because of that song, though. As much as hellish things can be cool. (which is a lot, haha)
"When we'd first get calls at 2 or 3 in the morning, my husband would answer the phone. He can't hear too well. They'd ask for Jenny, and he'd say 'Jimmy doesn't live here any more.'... Tommy Tutone was the one who had the record. I'd like to get hold of his neck and choke him."
—Mrs. Lorene Burns, an Alabama householder formerly at +1-205-867-5309; she changed her number in 1982.
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