The Korean Bogeyman

Much has been written about the Korean belief in "fan death", or death caused by sleeping with a fan left on. There's a substantial Wikipedia entry on the issue. Basically, the idea is that a fan will eventually suck all the oxygen out of the room, dehydrate you, or suffocate you (or some combination of these things) while you are sleeping, resulting in death. I've heard that this idea was created by the Korean government to help the population conserve electricity, but I've never confirmed that. Anyway, whoever made the concept up has done quite a number on generations of Koreans.

My parents, who are from Korea and have lived in the US for about three decades, still believe in the idea, even though fan death is unheard of here. After lunch with them yesterday, I brought up the subject, to which my Mom nodded vehemently and said, "Oh yeah. You will be dead. 100 percent." I asked her, derisively, how exactly one dies from a fan being left on in a room where one sleeps. She tried hard to untangle the logic, weaving together something about the fan creating a vacuum in the room and sucking out all the oxygen, leaving only carbon dioxide. Or was it pumping carbon dioxide in the room? Anyway, it was in the newspapers in Korea every year, 10 people or so dying from this. I could only laugh and turn to my Dad, who I thought would be more rational on the matter, and ask him, "Do you really believe this?" He smiled coyly, paused and admitted, "Yeah."

Mind you, both of my parents are doctors. One has a PhD and the other is a pediatrician. And qualifications aside, they're my parents. For most of my life, they've explained how the world works to me, and most of the time they were right. It's hard to look those same people in the eye one day and realize your universes don't line up. Now me, I don't believe in fan death. It's a crazy, old Korean myth. But I'll never forget the affirmation -- the blood red conviction -- in my parents' eyes that day. And I guarantee you the next time I try to go to sleep with a fan on I'll see those eyes, and that conviction. And maybe, just maybe, in spite of the oppressive heat and humidity, I'll switch the damn thing off.