notforprophet

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Will It Ever Be The Same?

Some time ago, even before I enlisted as a psychic operant in Col. Ollie North’s Central American Brigade (I’m allowed to reveal this since no one will believe it. And a truth unbelieved is even more equivocating than explicit deceit), I was, perhaps, a bit too wayward and impulsive. Ah—but the times permitted. Yes, indeed. How they did.

So when the mood moved me, I often took wing. Sometimes literally. Always solitary. Often surreptitiously.

Like just getting on a plane and flying to New York, Broadway to catch a performance of David Bowie in the play Elephant Man on Halloween. Or hopping on a flight in mid-winter to cruise down to Orlando to go to Disney World?? Hell, no—just to run in the sultry air on Florida highways in the middle of the night. Or catching a Red-Eye Midnight flyer to San Diego, again in mid-winter, and again to escape the absence of Spring, to see my sis (ahanna).

O that Midnight flyer—what a trip! Those were the days (ha ha ha)…when you could still race to the airport, get there 10 minutes before the flight, and literally sprint down the concourse to the boarding gate. And that I did. Then underway, I grabbed a window seat so that, once above the cloud canopy of dreary winter, I could study the stars. ( I loved and still love starlight and constellations. I used to get up a 4:30 AM when I lived in the southern highlands of Arizona just so I could jog out under the brilliant display of the Milky Way.)

Airborne and halfway across the country, I saw them: lights in the sky against the stars but darting around like woodland faeries. UFOs—yes!. I knew right away. And I even called the cute brunette stewardess who was attending me over to have a look. Somewhat incredulous at first, she decided, nonetheless, to humor me and leaned over my lap to look out the window. “Look!” , I declared. “Where?” , she queried. “There…”, and I pointed. And she gazed and beheld for a good half-minute then said “Oh my God—I’m going to tell the pilot!’

So she hurried herself off toward the cockpit only to return a few minutes later to inform me that the pilot wanted to see me. Was I in trouble? Me? Never! Hell, no…

The stewardess accompanied me to the front and knocked on the cockpit door. Without hesitation, the pilot opened it quite eager to inform me that, he too, had spotted the elusive lights. And so, by radio reports, had some other pilots. And, no, no one had any idea what they were. And then, inviting me in, he shared the view through the cockpit windshield with me. And there they were: three UFOs skirmishly prancing away off into the distance. The stewardess’ eyes were as big as full moons (or were those her heaving breasts?!). And then the pilot informed us that there were indications of a storm ahead and that I would need to take my seat again.

So the flight couldn’t have been more exciting, right?! Until upon disembark I discovered I’d have to go through a screening by Customs. Whhhaaat?? Oh yes, the airport was *International* and screenings were customary. I nearly shit. So I stood in line and when it came my time the Customs officer asked me to open my carryon case. Oh…alright… First thing he saw: a 4-inch bronze Buddha smiling up at him. He then moved that aside to encounter 10 packs of Indian incense which, even unlit, wafted fragrantly. Moving that aside, he further encountered a well-worn Tarot deck waiting for a reading. Dare he go further??—I hoped not. But sure enough, he pushed the Tarot deck aside to reveal an intricately-inlaid exotically-gilded *cigarette* case, which, since I never smoked cigarettes, probably contained something on the order of rolled aromatic hallucinogenic herb.

Was I busted? The Customs officer stopped, shook his head, waved his hands in a sort of handwashing dis-involvement and said: “I’ve seen enough. Get the hell out of here.”

“Yes sir!” I acknowledged. And then just thought to myself, wisely without a pronouncement: “And the space visitors thank you too!”

So what are the chances, post 9-11, of ever pulling off such madcap again?