The Visitation
Another 4 a.m. transmission woke Jimmy and I up the other night. But, it was not The Weather Channel. As if we needed it to tell us that the night was going to be stormy, with rain pounding, lightning stabbing, wind roaring, and thunder booming. . . .Nor was it our potheads on their CBs. This time it was something else:
"Hey Doug, Do you have any signals?"
"Yeah Jerry, I have a blip at 4 o'clock, but there's nothing on the schedule."
"Maybe a flight was diverted because of the storm?
"They usually tell us about any changes."
Uh oh—it sounded like two fellas discussing something weird on a radar screen. Maybe the wind had blown something around to cause a radar blip. I didn't have to wake Jimmy. He was already wide-awake and actually quite alert. "Sounds like you have JFK airport this time," he said.
"Yep. I wonder what blew over there," I replied. I was only mildly curious because, well, in weather like this, anything on earth was possible."
This exchange reminded me of a plane crash that had occurred many years ago, when my sister and I had started out from our home in South Ozone Park, Queens, to go into Manhattan to a Rolling Stones concert. It was raining in that same heavy way, when the world just seems to fill up with water.
We had heard a tremendous crack of—I thought at the time—thunder. "It's the judgment of G-d," I had joked to my sister and she had laughed. Later that night, when we had returned from the concert, we learned that there had been a plane crash out near JFK just around the time we had heard the noise. Judgment of G-d, indeed—many people had lost their lives in that crash.
"Yep. I wonder what blew over there," I replied. I was only mildly curious because, well, in weather like this, anything on earth was possible."
"Hey, Jerry, what's that light over there? Damn it. It looks like something's crashing over by the fence."
"Doug, It can't be a fire--not in this downpour. I'll ask Ray to go check it out and, when he gets back, I'll give you a call."
. . . .
This exchange reminded me of a plane crash that had occurred many years ago, when my sister and I had started out from our home in South Ozone Park, Queens, to go into Manhattan to a Rolling Stones concert. It was raining in that same heavy way, when the world just seems to fill up with water.
We had heard a tremendous crack of—I thought at the time—thunder. "It's the judgment of G-d," I had joked to my sister and she had laughed. Later that night, when we had returned from the concert, we learned that there had been a plane crash out near JFK just around the time we had heard the noise. Judgment of G-d, indeed—many people had lost their lives in that crash.
. . . .
So, now, on this rainy night, I waited rather apprehensively, hoping to learn that something had crashed but that it was nothing with any people in it. Maybe it was a just a weather balloon or an unmanned craft of some sort or other.
"Doug, Doug, what's on your screen now?" Jerry's voice had picked up a strong note of panic. "Got nothing," Doug replied, yawning rather loudly. "What's the matter? What did Ray see?"
Silence. Had the transmission ended? Drat it, was I going to end up not knowing what happened until it flashed on CNN tomorrow? Then my foot started up again:
Once again, silence reigned, this time, for approximately 15 minutes, although it felt like 15 hours to me. Then, once again, we heard:
Then a more-professional voice intervened:
"Doug, Doug, what's on your screen now?" Jerry's voice had picked up a strong note of panic. "Got nothing," Doug replied, yawning rather loudly. "What's the matter? What did Ray see?"
Silence. Had the transmission ended? Drat it, was I going to end up not knowing what happened until it flashed on CNN tomorrow? Then my foot started up again:
"Doug, this is Ray. I called Jerry out here and he's freaking out. He thought I was nuts, but he came out anyway and we don't believe it. There's all this crap lying around here and it's not a weather balloon! There are these gray things around here with these big black eyes. Ya know—it looks like Roswell."Jimmy and I looked at each other. I was frozen with awe and fear. Could my infamous left foot have picked up some JFK personnel in the middle of an alien encounter? "OMG!" I mouthed, unable to utter a sound. "OMG, it can't be!" he responded aloud. "Gotta be a practical joke." "No," I whispered, my voice starting to come back. "The grays are there!" Jimmy shook his head despairingly at my credulence. "This ain't JFK. It's 'The Twilight Zone.'"
"C'mon, you guys. Stop messing with my head. Pick up one of them things and bring it to me. I'll show you what's what."
Once again, silence reigned, this time, for approximately 15 minutes, although it felt like 15 hours to me. Then, once again, we heard:
"OK, gimme this guy. Let's do an alien autopsy right now." "Doug, you're no MD. You can't do that."Suddenly there was a hissing sound and then bursts of laughter. "Look, you guys. Which one of you pulled this stupid stunt?" Silence. "Where'd you get these dolls. Korea? China? Roswell?"
"Ray, look, turn this one over. See that little plug there? Just pull it."
"I'm not gonna touch that thing. Maybe it's got radiation."
"We got detectors for that. No radiation here. How about you Jerry? Can you give this a pull?"
Then a more-professional voice intervened:
"Douglas, did you get a blip on your radar about 20 minutes ago?"And that was the alien invasion. The only Gray in the whole scenario was the detached and professional lady. I sure can't wait to see the movie though. . . .
"Yes, Ms. Gray , I did."
"Good, I've just been notified that a blimp with some inflatable alien dolls was moored nearby, and it seems to have blown away in the storm. Can you check to see if it's the blimp? It was going to go to Roswell for a stunt in a movie."
"We found them Ms. Gray. I'll get the fellas to clean up and recover as many as possible. But the blimp is all torn up."
"Thanks. Good night, Douglas."
"Good night."
(to be continued)
For the previous entry go to the tab called: My Left Foot, Version 2.0, and scroll down past this entry.
