We the fans of the UFO phenomenon handle a classification when we treat of the “close encounters”. Depending on how close we’ve been to the aliens, we talk about “close encounters of the first kind”, “close encounters of the second kind”, “close encounters of the third kind”, and finally there’s the kind in which you cut and run. There are fans to whom going from one phase to another takes a lifetime. I, however, went through all these phases in just a few minutes. Now I tell you.
In order to establish contact with extraterrestrials or with any girl who agreed to date me, I spent the nights traveling with my old Chevrolet around my hometown. Well, on March 15, 1986, I lost the bet I had made with my neighbor Nicky, who had bet against me that I would find the aliens rather than a girl willing to date me. Indeed, that night I was calmly driving through an uninhabited area when suddenly I saw a turquoise blue light in the sky. I stopped the car and watched that light in order to determine if it was a manned spacecraft or a weather balloon, or a strange mixture of both. It did not take me long to determine, because faster than I could say “damn it!”, the light had landed in front of my car, and a little macrocephalic man was saying “Hello” with his hand. I jumped out of the car immediately and implemented the last phase of the classification I have listed: cut and run.
The next thing I remember is that an old woman was poking my head with her umbrella while asking if something happened to me. The blows woke me up and I saw that I was in the middle of a public square in my hometown. As soon as I managed to dodge the old woman, I went to the nearest hospital to get a medical checkup in search of any material evidence of my abduction. When the doctor appeared with the results of the tests and he asked me if there was in my family a history of microchips inserted in the brain, I knew right away that, indeed, I had established contact with aliens. Or rather, that they had established contact with me. Naturally, I was overwhelmed by the thought that, among the millions of human beings that populate the planet, the aliens had chosen me. For a guy who as a child always raised his hand in class, whether or not he knew the answer to the teacher’s question, with the unfounded hope that someone would notice his existence, that was a formidable injection of self-esteem. I even thought about founding a religion or something similar, but when I started writing its bylaws I could not get past “You will clean your shoes on the mat before entering the temple”. So I thought it preferable to keep the experience for myself and not to publicize it unless someone ever spoke to me. As that has not yet happened, now I have decided to put it in writing so that it remains a record for posterity.