Apocryphal Now!

Apocryphal stories are defined as stories of doubtful authorship or authenticity.  They are somewhat different from a story a raconteur would tell because apocryphal stories are always false even though they may have some basis in truth.  A raconteur's story may be 100% true. 

With the new year will come the Darwin Awards stories from some dark region of the Internet.  These stories, which describe various ways some people, who, through their own stupidity, have caused their own demise.  These incidents usually involve some guy from the south, a shotgun and a beer can or two or three or more.  It is interesting to note that these stories, while billed as new for whatever year they are released,  are 90% the same every year and never involve women.  If these Darwinians are correct, (and I believe they are) women don't do these things.  Sure they may fall prey to accidental death but never with a rocket stolen from the local defense plant that they welded to the top of their car in order to go 300 miles an hour while not having the common sense to ask themselves how am I gonna stop this thing?  Yes, the Darwin awards incidents are apocryphal but always fueled by testosterone.

However, throughout the years, I have heard several apocryphal stories that do not end in someone's death and involve reasonable situations and although you kinda know they are not true, you want them to be.

A few Sundays ago I was watching "Sunday Morning" on CBS.  I am a major fan of this program and it is programmed into our DVR so that I never miss one.  On the Sunday in question, they did a little piece about Emily Post the 1930s New York socialite who wrote several books on etiquette which are still in print.  The CBS profile made me think of an apocryphal story about her that I heard long ago and I want it to be true.

And here it is:

Two guys were attending a black tie dinner at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York.  One turns to the other and says,"Do you know the woman you are sitting next to?"

The other guy says, "No, who is she?"

"Emily Post," his friend says.

"The Emily Post, the one who wrote all of the etiquette books?"

"The one and only," his buddy replies.

Later in the meal our guy turns to the woman and says, "Aren't you Emily Post?"

"Yes I am," she said.

"The Emily Post who wrote all of the books on etiquette and table manners?" he asks.

Quite sheepishly she replies, "Why, yes I am."

"You're using my salad fork."

Rim shot, fade to black...the apocryphal story is complete.

Forget the mechanics that if she had been sitting on his right she would have had to reach across his plate to the forks on his left.  Or, if seated to his left, she would have had to pick up the fork with her right hand an act she was forbidden to perform from birth.

But, I don't care.  I want it to be true and if I had to verify it under oath I would.

Happy Holidays!

And mind your manners at the table.

And, depending on the crowd, feel free to dip into the apocryphal chalice in your head and tell the story. 

I'll back you up.