We’d gone to the waterpark for the day, the one a ways east of town there, with the RV park and the fancy new bandstand and all that. The one where a good quarter or more of the RVs have decals of pineapples placed visible from the roadway.
It was a scorcher, hot even for late August, and we’d gone to see a pal and her daughter who were in town visiting family. Her cousin had a place there, and we got in on the resident passes; a good deal, no doubt saved a pretty penny.
All afternoon, the kids climbed up the rickety stairs to the top of one waterslide or other, then sped down into the lukewarm human soup only to come splashing up, grinning wide, and race out of the water to do it again. My wife and our pal kinda stayed close to the younger kids, so I perched up at a table under an umbrella, hiding from the sun, and slowly worked my way through a couple premium tall cans.
I’d have been content on my own, people watching with one eye on our boy for the afternoon, but in time our pal’s cousin’s husband plopped himself on the plastic chair next to mine. Without even bothering to towel off, he cracked an off-brand soda and launched right into it.
First time you been out here? he asked, friendly smile wrinkling the leathery skin left uncovered by his wraparound shades.
Sure is, I nodded, took a sip of my drink. We knew each other, this guy and me, had met more than a few times over the years, but not well by any means. He and his wife were older than my wife and our pal by a decade at least. Quite the spread.
No doubt, he laughed, shaking his head. You should see it at night.
Oh uh, I thought to myself, worried he was about to launch into a sales pitch for the swinger’s lifestyle. I hadn’t noticed a pineapple decal or any such nomenclature about their trailer. But then again, I hadn’t been looking for it either. However, the conversation took a different turn, right quick.
Do you believe in aliens, bud?
Excuse me? I go, thrown off by this line of questioning. Surely he couldn’t mean…
UFOs? Little green men? You believe, bud?
Uh, sure, I said, as my son climbed out of the pool, making yet another b-line for the stairs. Why not?
You ever seen one? He took a sip of his soda, leaned in close. Ever had a close encounter?
Couldn’t say I had, so I told him as much. My son came flying out the bottom of the slide, skipping over the water’s surface once, twice, before plunging into that tepid chlorine and piss filled pool. Two seconds later he was up, grinning, and pulling for the side to giver another go.
Buddy, buckle up, he laughed, slapping his palm on the plastic table. The other night, I was driving out here. Had some business in the city to attend to, and it was dark by the time I hit the highway. It was a weeknight, wasn’t much traffic once I passed the perimeter there. No moon either, so once the city lights were lost in the rearview, the stars were out something special. I was coming up on the turnoff for this place here, a couple miles west yet, when I seen what at first I thought was a shooting star come over across the sky, cutting over the highway, headed south. Neat-o, I says to myself, making a little wish like I always do. But then pretty quick I come to figure this ain’t no shooting star. Not one I ever seen anyhow.
In the pool, a pair of teens kept trying to find the space to suck face for more than a couple seconds. But they could not for the life of them get any respite from a pack of younger kids, I assume the couple’s siblings, who kept pestering ‘em, splashing ‘em, sneaking up behind ‘em to goose the flesh on the back of their arms or their sides. But god bless ‘em, the teens kept at it, and one way or another their hands kept busy beneath the water’s wavy surface. Summer love is fleeting.
Pretty soon this light, she ain’t streaking across the sky no more, buddy’s telling me, paying no mind to the scene in the pool before us. It’s almost like, hovering, or else cruising real slow, not much faster than I’m doing, 120 or whatever, and just off to the south. It’s not every goddamn day you see something like this, I’m thinking. So next road I come across, I turn off, so as to observe whatever this shit is better. Up close and personal like.
If it wasn’t a shooting star, I go, giving my son a thumbs up as he once again pops himself up out onto the pool deck and heads for the stairs up to the slide. What’d it look like?
At first I thought maybe it was some fucked up northern lights or something, buddy goes, leaning forward, elbows on knees, kneading his chin with one hand. But I was also like, nah, that ain’t the northern lights. I know what I’m looking at. I seen Close Encounters of the Third Kind and ET in the theatres, for christsake. This was a goddamn unknown flying object if ever there was one, man!
Far out, I said, taking a swig. What else could I say? I wasn’t totally buying his story. But I was enjoying it. A big kid, stocky, wound up and did a bellyflop into the pool, drawing a round of cheers from his little buddies and a prompt admonishment from the pool attendant, a pimply girl not much older than the boy she was dressing down. I noticed, then, that there didn’t seem to be any actual lifeguards on duty, only a platoon of teens in red t-shirts, armed with whistles and walkie talkies. Not that any of the pools were deep enough to get into any serious trouble, but still. Kinda concerning. So what’d you do?
I kept driving until there was nothing out there between me and the lights but a pile of empty sky and open fields, buddy said, sipping his soda. I pulled over on the side of this dirt road, facing east, with a straight on view of the thing. It had stopped speeding around, then, was just kinda floating about a couple hundred feet in the air. This wasn’t far from the campground here. A mile or two southwest, maybe not even that far. Far enough, anyhow, that anyone walking around or sitting around a backyard fire probably wouldn’t have seen it, what with all the light pollution this place pumps out. But from up there, I betcha they coulda looked down on the park and really gotten a show.
A show? I go. What kinda show?
Heck, whatever kinda show they’re looking for, buddy goes. They got an overview of humanity spread out right before them. You got sex, drugs, rock n roll.
Rock n roll?
Live music at the bandstand every Saturday night, buddy. Karaoke most every other night and even Sunday afternoon. There’s plenty of family drama, tons of situational comedy. Just look around. Romance galore. Life and death shit, sometimes. This place is bumping all summer long, bud, and it only gets wilder come nightfall.
I believe it, I told him, meaning the scene at the campground, not so much the alien business. But he went on, regardless.
Knew you’d get it, dude, he said. A loudspeaker called out number 76. Buddy peeled a soggy piece of paper from off the table beneath his can of soda. Hey hey, that’s me. Be right back.
I was starting to wonder where the gals had got to with the little ones. But there were plenty of splash spots and sprinklers and small slides to keep them busy. I scanned the pool for the boy, wondering where he’d got to, and for a moment I couldn’t see him. I was almost worried there for a moment, thinking maybe I should get up and do a lap to see if he’d gotten somewhere different without telling me or my noticing, but then sure enough, there he was in line for the big slide, leaning against the railing not far from the top platform. I waved, then kept waving like a fool, until he spotted me and gave a little wave back. Little guy was in his glory.
Buddy flopped back into his seat, setting down a big plate of popcorn shrimp and french fries on the table before us. It looked far from appetizing, but I hadn’t eaten since we’d left the city, and the beers were starting to creep up on me.
Dig in, he said, dipping a pair of shrimp into the cocktail sauce before jamming ‘em into his mouth. Where was I?
You’d parked your ride, I reminded him, grabbing a couple fries. The lights were just floating there. Then what? They beam you up? Probe ya?
No, no, buddy said, chewing that deep fried shrimp real slow and thorough. Nothing like that. Not exactly, anyhow.
In the pool, the teenage boy broke away from his paramour to pick up one of the smaller boys bothering the pair and toss him through the air to come splashing back into the water some half dozen feet away, to the squealing delight of the others and a massive eye roll from his paramour.
See, as I was sitting there, watching ‘em, I got the sense that they were also watching me. But not like, just watching me. It was like they were watching the world through my friggin eyes, man. I’m sitting there, blinking, scratching my nose, and something’s inside me, inside my mind, taking the whole thing in. And I’m watching their lights buzz about, so it’s like they’re gauging what it is I’m seeing, what I’m thinking. What I’m friggin feeling, bud. There was an awareness there. An alien awareness. Honestly, dude, I never felt anything like it. It was trippy as anything I’ve ever experienced, bar none. And we used to party fuckin hard.
Didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded, drained my beer. The gals returned then with the little ones in tow, draping wet towels over the back of the empty chairs around the table, five voices all going at the same time. We got the kids seated, shoving ketchup soaked fries into their mouths, quickly caught up on the adventures and mishaps of the past hour, when my wife asked, Where’s the boy?
He’s been running a loop here all afternoon, I pointed towards the waterslides with the empty in my hand. But he wasn’t there. Wasn’t in line, wasn’t climbing the stairs. Wasn’t anywhere I could see him. I don’t wanna say I panicked, just then. But I started to. Damn straight. I was a mess there for a bit, and afterwards I was still pretty shook up. That story buddy was telling me, he never finished it, and it went right outta my mind then and didn’t find itself back in my thoughts until much later.
Yet when I look up at the stars these days, I often think about what he told me. What he says he experienced. I have a lot of questions I wish I’d asked. But I haven’t seen that guy since, and I don’t expect we’ll ever go back to that waterpark again.