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Omaha, Nebraska, USA: 1970 We had been out "cruising" and it was two in the morning and time to get home. The headlights of Jamie’s VW bug cut into the darkness of the country road as we drove. I gazed up at the clear night sky - a thousand shining stars stared back. Suddenly, a meteor appeared in the sky and flashed across the road in front of us. Instinctively, we ducked our heads as it went by. Slowing down, we looked to our left to see if we could see where it had landed. Our eyes widened as we saw a soft neon glow in the middle of a golf course about a half mile away.
We ran to the booth and I opened the yellow pages. How could there not be a listing for NASA? Ok, think Steve, who do I call? The FBI! Yes, they would know what to do. The phone rang and there was a recording saying that they were closed, but that you could leave a message. The FBI closed? What kind of country is this? I would have to leave a message. I didn’t have time to think, I just blurted out:
We ran to the hill that separated us from the fallen meteor. As we neared the base of the hill we slowed down. What if there was radiation? Could it kill us? What would it look like? We had better go slow. We crawled up the hill and slowly peeked over the top. Our eyes focused on the glow. Even in our wildest imagination we could never have believed what we saw - a Pepsi machine glowing softly in the middle of the field. Neither of said a thing as we walked back to the car. In fact, we didn’t say a thing as we drove home and neither of us mentioned the incident to anyone for a long time. And the FBI never returned my call.
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We pulled into the parking lot of the country club and pounded on the door. You could see the glow of the meteor just 100 yards away behind a hill. The night janitor came over and asked us what we wanted. Through the glass, we told him about the meteor and that we had to do something. He did not share our concern and just pointed to a phone booth in the parking lot. |