Wednesday, March 14, 2018

The Time I Met Chuck Norris

The eyes of a Ranger are upon you ... 
This past Sunday I was lucky enough to score a free pass to the Lexington Comic & Toy Show. I wasn’t going to go, but I checked the attendee list and one of the guests was the one and only Mr. Chuck Norris. Of course I grew up with Chuck Norris—Good Guys Wear Black, The Octagon, Silent Rage and the greatest movie ever made, Lone Wolf McQuade. Frankly, I was giddy about meeting the great one. The man who doesn’t sleep, he waits. A cobra bit Chuck Norris once. After three days of agonizing pain, the cobra died. This is the man.

After a pleasant Sunday drive to Lexington, I entered the con and headed for Chuck’s booth. The line was crowded but not that bad. I saw him from afar. Walker, Texas Ranger himself, smiling, shaking hands and signing autographs. From afar he looked like a young, middle-aged man, as if his 78th birthday wasn’t the day before (it was). While I waited patiently, I struck up a conversation with one of his bodyguards, an armed, off-duty Lexington police officer in full uniform. I asked him about Chuck. He said he had been with Chuck all weekend, and he had never seen such a kind, involved, enthusiastic celebrity. Just what you want to hear about your hero.

I finally had the opportunity to approach Chuck. After a full weekend of being “on,” mixing with fans and pressing flesh, he looked like he was having the time of his life. I chose a photo to sign from his assistant, an Invasion U.S.A. photo of Chuck brandishing two Uzis. I stepped up to him.

“Hi Mr. Norris, I’m Jerry.”

“Hi Jerry!” said the man.

He took my photo, turned it around and started to sign in a tight, readable script. Chuck would not have prospered in medical school.

“Can you sign it ‘to Jerry’?” I asked.

His assistant butted in and told me signature only. Celebrities have different rules about this—Adam West would only personalize with a specific name, which I didn’t want at the time. For the man, I wanted the world to know Chuck Norris signed a photo directly to me. Oh well, that’s life.

I engaged Chuck. “Lone Wolf McQuade is my favorite Chuck Norris movie!” I squealed like a 12-year-old schoolgirl meeting Justin Timberlake. He smiled and said “Oh yeah?” “Yeah!” I replied. “If you have time I can quote all the dialog from beginning to end,” I joked. He smiled and handed me my photo.

“It’s been a total pleasure to meet you, Chuck.” I said. He smiled like a kid and stuck out his hand. I shook hands with Chuck Norris. Read that suckers! I shook hands with Chuck Norris!

“Tell your buddy I said hi,” said Chuck.

Without missing a beat I said, “Thanks, I will!” I walked away holding my photo. Eventually it occurred to me that I didn’t know what in the world he was talking about. I racked my brain. What buddy? Was the great one confusing me with someone else? After thinking about it, I think the noise of the convention hall messed with Chuck’s hearing a bit. I think he must have thought I told him Lone Wolf McQuade was my buddy’s favorite movie. Not sure why I would say that, but he must have thought he meets all kinds, so what? Anyway, I can now divide my life into two parts—before I meeting Chuck Norris and after meeting Chuck Norris. This part is definitely better!

And yes, I realize I only survived the encounter because Chuck Norris let me live. 


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