I’m not crazy. I just want to emphasize that point at the beginning because by the end of this post, you might have doubts. In my opinion, I’m one of the most grounded people around. Even most of my romantic ideals have been snuffed out in a cloud of realism. Great perspective for a budding writer, right? That could explain why I’m still in the wannabe phase.
Last night I was on the way to the church for the first camp meeting. As I went down the hill to get on the belt route I saw two headlights up on the hill. Two headlights in any of the surrounding hills usually mean someone is up to no good. As I approached the stop sign though I realized the headlights were too high up. It was dark out already and I couldn’t actually see the hill but I know it isn’t that big. The bright headlights were in the sky.
I stayed at the stop sign and tried to figure out what I was looking at. “Are they headlights?” I asked out loud even though I was alone in the car. I turned on my blinker. By coincidence, at least that’s what I repeated over and over to myself, the lights disappeared and a red blinking light appeared. Mimicking my blinker. Whatever I was looking at had turned. It flew in the opposite direction than the one I needed to go. I was tempted to follow it just to confirm what I was looking at. Unfortunately, I made a commitment to attend the meeting (darn reliability trait I inherited from my dad!). I turned and went up the hill toward the church.
When I turned off at the top of the hill I looked to see if the lights were still in the sky. They were. Hovering in the west over the town. That’s right, hovering. I watched the lights as I drove to the church and pulled in the parking lot. The lights were lingering in the same place. I should have waved – just in case I was being watched. Because that’s how I felt.
When I left an hour later, the only thing in the sky were stars.
So, maybe it was a helicopter. This is a small town and the only helicopters we usually see are the Med-copters that transport patients to Salt Lake for treatment. This was nowhere near the hospital. Hmm.
Okay, maybe it was a Search and Rescue helicopter. That would explain why it was over the hill. At night. When it was dark. But why did it hover over the town after? Ooh.
Maybe it was a police helicopter (I don’t think our town actually has one) that was looking for… poachers on the hill. At night. In the dark. Eh.
The truth is I’d prefer the alien scenario to humans hovering over my town. That just seems so sinister. Back off my town, you evil mastermind! But I live in Podunk Wyoming. Who would have a vendetta against us? I mean, one that would have access to fancy flying equipment as opposed to hunting rifles?
I came home and told my dad about it. Let me give you a little background on my dad. He hates Sci-fi. It’s not his thing. We’ve tried to have him watch movies with us. As soon as the first alien comes on-screen he jumps ship faster than the Captain of the Costa Concordia.
So his reaction was no surprise. I told him exactly what I had seen. He smiled and said, “It was a helicopter.” And he didn’t listen to my arguments. That’s one of the fundamental differences between my folks. Mom would have indulged me. In fact, I probably would have called her and had her look at the sky when it was hovering. At least then I would have had a witness. Or she would have confirmed it was, in fact, a helicopter and I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself with this blog.
But no matter. Whether I saw just a helicopter or you know, an unidentified flying object, I guess we’ll never know. So I might as well make it a good story. Yeah, I’ll stick with that.