Last February, Kurt and I were visiting Florida and staying at a hotel in Atlantic Beach. This is a few months after the Tiger Woods drama broke, and he was scheduled to give his first press conference the following day at PGA headquarters just down the coast in Ponte Vedra.
Since he had been in rehab and hadn't been seen for a while, this was a Big Deal. Even the tabloids hadn't been able to snag a picture of him, and the rumor was the first shot would go for big money, possibly even a million dollars.
So we're in Atlantic Beach, enjoying our stay, and Kurt decides to go grab lunch down the street. He returned with more than lunch. He had a story.
Now, unlike me, Kurt is not one to have stories that require sitting down and paying rapt attention while he relates every detail. That's my job.
So when he had me sit down so he could relate every detail, I knew it was big.
On the way home from the restaurant, Kurt saw ... wait for it ...
I know! I KNOW! Seriously!
Our conversation went something like this:
Me: Are you sure?!?!
Kurt: I'm sure. He's a distinct looking guy.
Me: But are you sure-sure?
Kurt: I'm sure.
Me: Wait. He'll be 20 minutes south tomorrow for the press conference. Whoa. It probably was him.
Me: Ok, ok, it was him.
(lightbulb goes off in my head)
(dollar signs flash before my eyes)
Me: So ... you got a picture right?
Kurt: Um ...
Me: Seriously, that's a million dollar shot. Even if it's all cell-phoney and grainy.
Kurt: Well ...
Me: Tell me you got the shot.
Kurt: He saw me looking at him. And he glared at me. Hard. Like 'Don't mess with me' hard. And before I knew it, he got in a Mercedes and was gone.
As you can imagine, we have revisited this moment many times (last night among them - which is why it's in my head). We think of what might have been. The grainy photo of a scowling Tiger, our check from the National Enquirer for a cool million, the fab beach house we could have bought.
Granted, a bodyguard probably would have jumped Kurt and beat him up, but getting pummeled for $1 million isn't the worst trade ever (says the girl who isn't getting pummeled).
The moral of the story? The old cliche: Shoot first. Ask questions later.
Photo by Degilbo