What... a... twat.
He's the man!
"Two years ago my wife and I attended the SHOT Show in Orlando, FL. After a couple days of walking the show Mrs. Frogman was a little sluggish getting up in the morning. It was strongly suggested by her that I go get our morning coffee while she caught a few more Z's. I cautioned that she may miss something by sleeping in as more often than not I had run into someone interesting; a celebrity or whathaveyou, at that particular Starbuck's. This mere tantalizing factoid would not budge the woman, however, and so I was off to retrieve caffeine alone. I ordered our drinks and stood at the drink pick-up area patiently awaiting our elixirs when Ted Nugent, his wife, and someone I presumed to be his daughter walked in. Never one to fawn on celebrities I feigned ignorance as to who he was and continued my vigil waiting for the drinks.
As I was on leave at the time, I had a couple weeks growth of beard and was wearing average civilian clothing. Ted initiated a friendly conversation about nothing in particular with me after signing a couple of autographs for patrons and sitting with his family next to where I stood. His wife glanced at me from behind her morning paper where she had conveniently hid out while he signed the autograph or two before seating himself and engaging me in idle chit chat. She gave me a brief once over and returned to her paper, intent on dismissing me, as well. About this time Ted asked me if I was in town for the SHOT Show and I told him I was. He said he was, too, and that he was an avid hunter. I told him that that was nice. He asked me if it was the first time I had been to SHOT and I told him, "No", that I had been several times before. He asked why I had been so many times and I simply told him that "my work sent me nearly every year." He pressed me further about what I did and I told him "I was in the Navy".
At this point I was aware of the newspaper dipping slightly behind him and saw only one of his wife's eyes above the paper examining me once more, but more carefully this time. Then the single eye disappeared behind the paper once more, apparently satisfied that something interesting may develop here after all. Oblivious to his wife, Ted extended his hand and said that his name was "Ted". I returned the favor and he began to tell me how he had trained Navy SEALs. I was amazed. "Really?", I said. "What do you do for a living that allows you to train those guys?" The newspaper slowly began to lower again and a curious grin crossed his wife's face. He said nothing of his rock life-style, in fact he never mentioned his full name. But he went on and on about how he had trained SEALs often as well as Secret Service Agents and a whole host of other high speed characters. As his wife crossed her arms and grinned a "I knew this day was coming grin", I began to fill out my mental scorecard by asking....
"Who did you train?" (SEALs, Secret Service, Cops..etc...heavy emphasis on SEALs.
"When did you train them?" (Vague answer.)
"Where did you train them?" (Texas somewhere)
And then came the famous:
"What are some of the SEALs names?" "Oh, you wouldn't know them.", he said.
"Sure, I would", I said. "I've been a SEAL for about 20 years. Lay some names on me."
A look of horror and panic hit his face as he stumbled for words and couldn't come up with a single name. [Embarrassed] His wife beamed in the background clearly amused at this development. I let him dangle, clearly embarrassed for a while until I thought he'd had enough. Then I changed the subject to his favorite pistol cartridge the 10mm and 1911's. He eagerly took that bait in order to drop the previous subject. By then my drinks were up and I departed. I couldn't help it, though, when I got to my car. I fished out one of my official business cards and went back to the store. In front of his wife I gave it to him and said something to the effect of, "Well, if you're ever passing through Virginia and you want to really shoot with a SEAL here's how to get hold of me." His wife was in total bliss as he took my card.
Some of you may remember that this was early 2006 and Mrs. Frogman was busy trying to raise money to help the families of the guys we lost on June 28, 2005. When I told her the story she was miffed at herself for missing it by sleeping in. She also felt like she had an in with ol' Ted because he had grossly exaggerated his affiliation with SEALs and she was hopeful that he would do something to chip in when it came to helping real SEAL widows and such. He never returned her e-mail, nor did he ever call me. But that would NOT be the last time I ran into ol' Ted Nugent. Stand-by for part two....
"The world moves in a circle, to be sure. Now, I am not a Buddhist, but I do believe what comes around goes around. If that qualifies for "karma", so be it. The thing is, I have also noticed that when it comes around there seems to be a little more energy on it than when it left. Where does the increase in speed come from? I do not know. But I've seen it enough in my own life to respect it. Vent bad stuff into the world, bad stuff comes back to you...just a bit harder than you sent it. That's my motto.
Ted Nugent pushed in a direction before me that sent the energy around the mysterious galactic "sphere" in Orlando during the SHOT Show there in 2007. The energy returned to Ted (and I, for that matter) on April 19, 2008 this very year in Roswell, New Mexico this time (around noon, if you're doing the math Nostradamus-style.., and don't forget the time changes, you slide-rule wielding astrophysicists). Ironically, the setting was another Starbuck's. (Einstein just bumped his head on the inside of his coffin...did you hear that?). I was in town to work with some local law enforcement folks for a couple weeks. While accompanying a local policeman to a hardware store in Roswell for some supplies I spied a flier announcing that Ted Nugent was going to speak at some fundraiser in the near future in Roswell. After consulting both the flier and my watch I divined that he would be in Roswell to speak the very next day. I recall my remark to my colleague while we were still in the hardware store, "Say, when we're done here...remind me to tell you my "Ted Nugent Story".
Now, those of you that know me, and probably many of you who don't by now know that I consider a Starbuck's- any Starbuck's, to function as an unofficial embassy for me. That said, it is terribly difficult for me to simply pass one up. I believe at least 2 hours had passed since my last cup of coffee at the time, so I threw the "red star cluster", as it were, and diverted my host to the nearest Starbuck's on Main Street post haste. This, of course, was in order that I might both fulfill my wish to enhance my caffeination level as well as the potential to buy my friend (who was an "espresso newby") a drink which would induce sweat, sudden heart palpitations, and put him at great risk of unduly trusting a fart in uniform. In record time all of these prophecies were fulfilled...with the curious inclusion of yet one more...that being, the "Ted factor". Beads of sweat were just forming on the forehead of my new friend as I wrapped up the story I have already related in Part One to you all to him. I happily stepped from the cool AC of the Starbuck's into the hot desert air with my partner picking his steps carefully behind me in the way that only one who has newly acquired a hyper active colon can relate to and what did I spy to my right as I scanned for threats and eye candy?
A monster truck...slowly departing the Starbuck's pick-up window...driven by none other than Ted Nugent!!!
"Hey, Ted!", I called, as the truck pulled away. In response, my call was met by the curious melded sound of my gastrically challenged partner shuffling nearby and the chirping of big truck tires. Aha!!! I had him. The truck backed up a few feet and there hung Ted from the window ledge of the driver's side like a recently expended jack-in-the box. Some Ted-flunky proudly sat in the passenger seat and looked on.
"Hey, fellas. Good to see you law-types around. I've got your back while I'm in town", he said and later repeated several times.
"Golly, Mr. Nugent it is so great to see you,", said my friend, (or something like that).
Today, instead of sporting two weeks of beard growth, I was wearing 8 months of beard hair and replied from behind it....
"Hey, Ted...you don't remember me, do you? I spoke to you at the Starbuck's in Orlando at SHOT in '07. You were telling me how you trained Navy SEALs."
And with that, his mouth went off like it was a race.
"Oh, yeah. I train SEALS all the time."
"I deployed with SEALs to Fallujah and showed them how I could shoot terrorists over 2,000 yards away with a .408 Cheytac (because that's what they use, of course)."
"I actually killed some badguys there....so, you know. I got your back here."
And on and on...until.
"Hey, Ted. You really don't remember me, do you? You don't remember my business card? You know you're full of s^%&, right?" Embarrassed--said his face. And with that we received a pause, a tip of the hat, a "good to see you law-types", a "gotta go", and the chirp of big tires. And he was "out". Now, I don't know about how you all feel. But in my book he still hasn't made this right. Probably not capable. But if someone out there figured out the math for this karmic equation, please PM me and inform me when I'll be running into ol' Ted again. Apparently, some folks are doomed to repeat the mistakes they've made.