By John Ludi (as Tim Elder)

Part Two: The Arrival.

About a half hour before we reached the actual town of Roswell my bladder reminded me vigorously of the Faustian bargain one generally makes when one chooses the lesser of two evils between falling asleep at the wheel in the middle of the night or drinking copious (nay, obscene) amounts of coffee to the point of grave internal injury. I debated on urinating into an empty Mountain Dew bottle as we drove into a town that seemed entirely unremarkable with the exception of a series of completely inane alien oriented sayings on the marquees of practically every business that had one and the town's close proximity to absolutely nothing. I was at the point of tears (which are usually reserved for movies, books, and the opera) regarding my imperiled urinary tract when I spied a Denny's in the distance, still some ways out from both our campsite and the ground zero point of the next day's festivities. I pulled into the parking lot, vaulted from my car, nearly smashed my head on a pane of glass that looked suspiciously like a door to my beleaguered eyes, managed to locate the actual entrance, and found my relief. I kept thinking of weasels. Big rabid weasels with immense teeth.

After this unfortunate episode which managed to waylay several other members of the caravan, we stood in the parking lot for a brief period discussing the latest "bombshell" to be broadcast on Art Bell's show. I did not hear the report myself but one of the members of the caravan made it sound like the Air Force itself was going to spill the beans at a major press conference on Friday morning. Like most of what I hear on Art Bell I took this with a grain of salt. I really don't know what to make of Art Bell. I don't listen to him religiously by any means. I'm not much for sensationalism myself but I do give him credit for turning on a lot of people to paranormal matters who normally wouldn't have much of an interest in such. He kind of strikes me as the Rush Limbaugh of the paranormal world, though I doubt either of them would find the comparison that flattering (can't stand Limbaugh myself). There are times when the mobilization of mass public sentiment is needed to break through the ossified bureaucracy. The bureaucracy that insists, despite all of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, that UFOs are nothing but reflections of the planet Venus off of a weather balloon trapped in a cloud of swamp gas (or whatever). Or mass hallucinations. (Can someone kindly explain the mechanics of a mass hallucination for me, by the way? How is it possible for more than one person to see the same imaginary object without some sort of nonmaterial mental communication going on? Just curious...)

People like Art Bell and shows like The X-Files are a net positive in my opinion, giving the 95% of the American public who refuse to read anything but the sports section of their local daily the chance the explore the possibility that their world may not be the tiny little place their foreshortened concepts of reality envision it to be. Sure they can be painfully superficial to anyone who takes these issues as seriously as I for example, do, but they are necessary and, speaking for myself, entertaining as hell at times. I just have a difficulty with the tendency that we have as a species in general, and as Americans in particular, to simplify everything down to a nicely digestible soundbite-sized chunk of reality. These phenomena (and the whole universe for that matter) are far too complex for us to define with any of the yardsticks we are currently comfortable with. And it is only in books and resources that the majority never hears of, let alone reads or pursues, that the boundaries of our constrictive worldviews are being challenged.

So my feelings towards Mr. Bell are mixed. And after the whole Hale Bopp fiasco I have tended to be that much more hesitant about him. Thus I was less enthusiastic than some of the others when I heard this bit of news. It seemed rather odd that the government would come clean after they just released the latest salvo in their confusing attempt to attempt to be confusing. But I'm used to our over-compartmentalized government doing odd and inexplicable things with a warped sense of timing, so I though "well...maybe".

(I am of course referring to the recent report that claims that the alleged alien bodies were actually crash dummies. The contradictions and flaws in this latest pack of ineptly configured lies are being exposed by enough other, and far more knowledgeable, people in the field of ufology that for me to do so would be redundant. Suffice it to say I was far from impressed with what I read about it. But the air force did spend a lot of our time and money on it and it did stir up that much more mud and make the air force look that much more suspect, so I suppose we should applaud them. Thanks guys!)

We continued on to our campgrounds, which were more than ample for the quantity of people who were there. Parascope had rented both a large camping area on the state fairgrounds and the Arts and Crafts building adjoining it. It being rather late, we all set up our bedding inside the building which was large and almost entirely empty save for a tiny cluster of tables in the middle that bore several laptops, what looked to be a decent PC, and assorted other computer gear. My girlfriend and I set up our leaky airmattress unsuspectingly close to the individual who apparently IS Parascope, a young, tall, rotund guy with a ponytail and goatee who had to be one of the least congenial people I've met in the past few years. He calls himself Ruffin Prevost.

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