Who's that Weirdo at the UFO Festival?

I finally had a chance to attend the 20^th Annual McMenamins UFO Festival last week.  Sasquatch, aliens, ghosts:  I L-O-V-E all that stuff! In 2011, I took my kids on a road trip to the Bigfoot Discovery Museum in Santa Cruz. We raptly listened to the owner, Mike, tell us how he encountered Bigfoot on a camping trip when he was eight years old. He gave us plenty of justification that Bigfoot is real. WE SAW SASQUATCH POOP IN AN ACRYLIC DISPLAY BOX! It’s hard to argue with poop evidence. On the way home, we stopped by Applegate, Oregon to see a Bigfoot trap that was built in the early 70’s. We all got about a million mosquito bites.

Albert was out of town last week, and all my kids are out of the house, so I was on my own at the UFO Festival. I had no idea what to expect at this 4-day event. I imagined it might be like the Renaissance Faire with an extraterrestrial twist. That is, I expected to see a lot of weirdos. I went on a Friday during the day when I thought it might not be as crowded and the UFOphiles might not be too far out and freaky yet. I attended a movie followed by a producer Q & A so I would have something specific to do and not be at risk of awkwardly wandering and lingering.

The movie was pretty packed! Many of the attendants sported VIP badges that granted them admission to all events for $75. There were concessions, merch, and books. BOOKS! I love books. But first things first. McMenamins beer seemed appealing and practically essential.

See that tin foil hat in the background? Yeah, I was a little underdressed. I was surprised to see people of many races and ages. One common characteristic, however, was that most of them looked kind of unhealthy. There were people of all shapes and sizes, but I could tell that if I walked up to any one of them and gave them  a friendly punch in the shoulder, my fist might just smoosh right in. Rosy cheeks were few and far between, and I don’t think I could distinguish a single bicep. “Infirm” came to mind as an appropriate adjective on a bunch of levels.

I found my seat with some time to people-watch and sip my beer-that-tasted-like-grapefruit. (WHY.) A group of about five people filed in behind me. VIP badges swung proudly from their lanyards as they chattered animatedly about the events they’d already attended and which events they were most looking forward to. These were hard core, apprised members of the UFO Community for sure! One man gushed about how impressed he was with the selection of books available at the merch table. Fortified with IPA Courage, I turned around and asked, “Which book is your favorite?”

He looked surprised. He was cautious. Maybe I was a nut. How would he even know?? “What are you interested in?”

Dunno. I’m new to this! His caution shifted to elation. He told me which books were good overviews and which were best documented. Then he burst into jubilant laughter. “There are so many great choices! Many of the authors are my friends!”

Then his friend got excited and breathlessly interrupted, “Would you be interested in attending a UFO Convention in Arizona?”

“Maybe!!” She passed me a half-page flyer for the 28^th Annual International UFO Congress in September. I felt warmly accepted by this new community. And also a little tipsy.

The movie was boring. I’m notorious for falling asleep during movies, my Ten-Dollar Naps. Maybe it was the beer. But probably it was movie.

I was super proud of myself for getting out of my comfort zone and trying something new and interesting on my own. I missed the parade, which was happening the next day. Maybe I’ll go again next year. At least I’ll know what to wear.

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Flying is Not my Cup of Tea

Ok, here I am! My first blog post. Why am I doing this? Crazy and amusing things happen to me frequently, and I get a great deal of joy sharing experiences with my peeps. But we’re all busy folks, so the person who gets to hear most about my days is my husband, Albert. I LOVE this man. But sometimes I can tell that he gets tired of my stories. I can be jabbering and working myself into TEARS of hysteria over things he just doesn’t find entertaining. “Ridiculous,” he often says. Not in a mean or dismissive way. He’s serious and practical. These are essential qualities in our relationship, since they are not exactly my strengths.

Now that I’m 51, I can be serious when it’s really important. But my humor wells up when I’m anxious or angry, which can make me seem a little insensitive or kind of insane. I’ve come to appreciate it as a healthy coping mechanism. It’s even healthier now that I’ve learned to control my face and mouth a little better. A very recent bout of anxiety happened on a flight from Philadelphia after visiting our second son at college. I was seated next to this very polite young man who was probably around 16. He had his laptop on his tray table and looked to be writing a paper for most of the 5-hour flight.

I do NOT sit still very well, and I was getting fidgety during the last hour of our flight. Last call for drinks! The young man asked for tea. Adorable. The attendant brought over a cup of hot water AND THE GUY PUT IT RIGHT ON HIS LAPTOP! Dude!!

I don’t know what kind of trauma happened to me in a past life, but the possibility of people knocking over cups FREAKS ME OUT. Anyone remember George W. Bush’s interview with Matt Lauer in 2010? After he started drinking his water, GWB placed his glass SO CLOSE to the edge of the table. I could no longer hear anything he said, because he was talking with his hands so much, and all I could think was HE’S GOING TO KNOCK OVER HIS WATER! My poor children. All their little lives, they were harassed about their cup placement. Even if they had lids. My nerves can’t take it! Whenever my kids put their cups close to the edges, I would tell them, “Don’t be George Bush.”

So this kid had his cup of hot water on his laptop, then the attendant came back with all the tea paraphernalia. The kid opened his tea bag and steeped his tea WITHOUT HOLDING HIS CUP. Then he ripped open sugar and two little tubs of half-and-half and carefully stirred the concoction with his wooden stick. IT WOULD NOT KILL YOU TO HOLD ONTO THAT CUP, KID. He was on the aisle seat, so someone could have knocked him at any moment, sent everything flying, and launched me into a stress-induced epileptic fit. I finally decided to completely turn my back to him. Albert was on my other side in the window seat listening to music. “I can’t stand it,” I moaned. He patted my arm like that was going to prevent complete destruction of $2,000 worth of electronics AND three hours of this kid’s homework.  It seemed to take him an hour to finish his tea. As if flying isn’t stressful enough.

So there’s the anxiety. Tah dah! Where’s the humor, you ask? I recognize that my Spillophobia is an irrational fear. So I laugh at myself. And I invite you to laugh along with me.