I think I might have added another incident to the Legend of Mason today. (Actually, there is another recent addition as well, but I want to use the exact quote from the magazine's editorial before I discuss it fully here.)
I got to lunch in Somerville a little later than usual today because of a seminar. I was in a really crappy mood, but I recognized that I was in such a state (I still am, to some extent, though I am feeling slightly better now), so I tried to avoid people and use lunch for nourishment only. Unfortunately, my efforts to sit on my own were foiled for various reasons (one time, I was about to sit off on my own when a couple of people sat near there, so I needed to go somewhere else), and I ended up just taking the next seat on High Table and sitting near people. (I also didn't want any of the staff to set up an extra table setting somewhere for me. They shouldn't have to do extra work for this.) I put my plate down after my brief random walking in the dining hall, and the garlic bread on my plate bounced off onto my chair---spreading tons of crumbs to the chair. Some people were already amused by this. I was rather annoyed by what I had done to my seat, so I put the bread on the plate but I was sufficiently frustrated that I mildly slammed it on there. Unfortunately, this caused garlic bread shrapnel to hit the old lady sitting next to me. (I think this was an Emeritus Fellow of Somerville.) She quietly, casually wiped it off and gave me a look of mild dismissal. The other people nearby tried to give me disdainful looks, but they weren't able to keep the straight faces necessary to do so. I think I was too ashamed to apologize, and my mood definitely didn't help turn my thoughts in such sensible directions. (As you can tell, I feel a bit guilty for not giving the apology and I hope I get a chance to do this reasonably soon.)
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Legendary status is a combination of personality and circumstance. It's rarely a matter of setting out to achieve such things.
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