“Alright, Terry, just calm down and sit,” he said,
nodding his head. His words were less slurred now that
he wasn’t so drunk. “You’ll be in danger if I tell you this, you know. Now sit down.”

“I’ll stand,” I said, still pissed off.

“Shut up and sit down. This is going to take awhile,” he said, patting his hand on the asphalt.

“Alright, I’m sitting,” I said, ashing my cigarette into the snow.

When Sam was finished, I grabbed the half-pint of rum he kept inside his jacket and took a long drink. I didn’t believe him. I knew he had flown in the Air Force, but this was too much – secret government agencies, UFO spacecraft, alien contact. It all seemed like bull crap.

“So after you got out of the Air Force, you expect me to
believe you worked at this A.T.A.T. place and did what?”

“I flew UFOs.”

“You were discharged at age 36, Sam, and you went to work as an engineer. I want to believe you but I just can’t. Look at you, living here out on the streets like a bum. You’ve lost it, man! Snap out of it!”