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 Personal Encounters With Time Travelers (non-fiction) Part One (c) 2002 Mark Andrews
It was a cold and rainy Monday night: April 17, 1978. At just past 7 PM, I got a phone call from George Biro. He was the 14 years old son of my friends, Bob and Marge Biro. "Man, we've got to go fishing. We've GOT to go NOW!' Having George call to ask me to perform favors for him that were clearly "above and beyond" the call of friendship was not unusual. My regular response would be to comply. But it was cold, it was raining, it was a Monday evening. Driving the 45 miles from my home to my parents' lake house near Bloomington, Indiana was definitely NOT anything that I wanted to do. I offered my best arguments as to why we should postpone the trip. George came back with, "But, you're off work tomorrow, aren't you?" (He shouldn't have known that.) Before I knew it, George and I were on our way to Lake Lemon. I was 26 at the time. I worked as a psychiatric attendant on the Deaf Unit at Central State Hospital in Indianapolis. George had that week off from high school because of Spring Break. It has always been hard for me to say "no" to George. Even at 14, he had a rare, contagious sense of humor that I've always found very refreshing. At just past 8 PM, we were headed South on SR 135, just North of the town of Trafalgar. George noticed what looked like a glowing white, illuminated "pin ball", keeping pace with us as it glided just above the railroad tracks that parallel the highway about a thousand feet to the West. "Man, look!", George observed. "They're ALIENS!... Bring'em ON! I'll knock'em out!" (George has always been a great one for machismo.) The object was pacing us at about 200 feet above the tracks. I could feel a "wash" of energy as it passed through the car, coming obviously from the object. Very shortly after the energy wave had covered us, the "pin ball" lifted upward and beyond sight. It was then that we noticed that that the rain had stopped. We arrived at the lake house just before 9 P.M.. We make our camp fire along the shore and set about fishing. Some time around 10 o'clock, another object appeared from behind; floating silently over our shoulders. This object was much closer to the ground and to us. It appeared to be a transparent orb. As it floated from NW to SE, you could see golden "energy" accumulate along it's outer hull (as if it had been gathered from the air itself) and then "shoot" in a straight line into a central point. The magnificence of this sight against the black, starless sky was beyond description. My reaction was a bit strange. "Send it energy!", I encouraged George. I attempted to make a connection by sending pranic energy through my outstretched arms. George, on the other hand, began to throw up (somewhat unnerved). I guess he figured that the "aliens" had decided to take him up on his offer to take them on. So much for fishing! I guided George up the sloped yard to the lake house, and encouraged him to make his bed on the bathroom floor, wrapped around the toilet. By this time in my life, I had heard enough about the process of alien abductions that I realized that we were to (obviously) be that night's catch. I didn't say anything to George about my thoughts pertaining to the abduction that I felt was inevitable. George was able to fall asleep very quickly. I (on the other hand) kept a silent, nervous vigil on the hallway floor in front of the bathroom door. I reasoned that anyone attempting to get to George would first have to (at least) step over me. As a defensive measure, it was clearly pointless. But actually, I did it as a psychological comfort for George. Inwardly, I quietly knew that we were headed for the Galactic exam tables. I woke up at just after 8:30 the next morning. I looked into the bathroom (No George!) "Oh shit!", I said out loud. I scrambled to look out the kitchen window. There (thank God) was George, having fun chasing the geese by the shore. I walked back to the bathroom with the pondering, "I wonder how I could have explained to Marge that George had been hauled off to another solar system?" As soon as I entered the bathroom, my attention was drawn to my reflection in the mirror, and to a raised "injection" mark that I could clearly see on the right side of my neck. Now I was freaked. "We've got to get the hell out of here!", I thought. I made a couple of very VERY strong cups of instant coffee - it was like my head was stuffed with cotton - and did my best to interest George in the idea of heading back home. We finally did leave about 1: 30 that afternoon. The hour drive back to Indy was uneventful. I dropped George off as their home on Kelly St. and just as suddenly found myself being overtaken by a very strange "drowsiness". It was all I could do to stay awake as I managed the 7 block drive to my bedroom in the basement of my parents' house on Garfield Dr.. My focus narrowed as I entered the front door. All that was on my mind was making it to the bed and collapsing. That's exactly what happened. I woke up from my 6+ hour "nap" at about 9:30. I had promised my friend Jim that I would be at his house that evening by 9. I called Jim and apologized for my tardiness. Before I left, I made a point of changing the shirt that I had been wearing for almost 36 hours. It was a white T-shirt with a frontal emblem of a setting sun, palm tree, and hovering sea gull. After I returned from Jim's house, I slept for another 7 hours and went to work the next morning. That next evening (Wednesday) I decided that I should drop by at the Biro's to see how George was doing following out "alien" experience from Monday night. As soon as I walked in the door, Marge "cornered" me. "Why were you acting so strange last night?" "What do you mean?", I responded. "You know,", Marge continued, "You came walking in here, said "How's it going?"; walked back to the kitchen - turned around - came back to the living room, said, "See you later," and left. For one of the truly rare moments in my life, I was "speechless". "What time last night?" I asked. "About 7:30.", she answered. "What was I wearing?" (I somehow had the presence of mind to remember that I had not changed shirts until after 9:30 Tuesday night. I was allowing for the possibility of sleep-waking.) Marge answered, "You had on a powder blue, silky looking shirt." At that point, Bob non-chalantly lowered his evening paper and very methodically interjected. "And what about the flying saucer?" "WHAT flying saucer????", I was really starting to freak! BOB: "The flying saucer that the neighbor kids saw you come out of and go back up into." "I don't HAVE a flying saucer!", I was nearly in tears. We all knew each other well enough to know that nobody was lying so we (very quickly) dropped the subject. And THERE the whole incident remained, never again to be resurrected. But for me, this was only the beginning of a most bizarre odyssey. (to be continued)
Originally published in Project X Newsletter #69
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