You'll Never Guess What We Saw Last Weekend

We were singing “Stacey’s Mom” around the campfire—rather hoarsely, I might add—when one of us said, “Whoa. What is that?”

I don’t recall who spotted it first. Drew, maybe, or perhaps Jeremy. It’s only been a week, as I write this, yet bits of my memory are already fading like an old photograph.

I turned to see a light glimmering just above the trees crowding the lake’s edge. This was Robby’s parent’s place, and we’ve been taking an annual dudes’ trip up there every summer for the past five or so. We’ve seen loons up there, and algae clouds, even an irate old grouch of a neighbor. But never anything like this.

The light stood stark against the black canvas above. It was a clear night, the stars all visible, except this definitely wasn’t a star. It was moving. From my vantage, it seemed to be moving right toward us.

It wasn’t an airplane, either. I’m sure you’ve seen them flying at night, so you’ve noticed they move in a straight, consistent path. An airplane would only descend like that if it was landing, and this was up in the Adirondacks. No airports nearby.

So then what was it, and why did it seem to be drawing closer? We all kept repeating that same question, only with varying intonations. “What is that?” “What is that?” “Is that…?”

“Looks like a goddamn UFO!”

That was me. I said that. At least, I think I did. It’s funny—when something unexpected happens, your memory goes spotty, even when you wish it wouldn’t. I remember a handful of details vividly: The eerie silence surrounding us, the dawning sense of disquiet as we realized, collectively, that this wasn’t just some Hooters Airlines jet. It was, by definition, unidentified.

As the object drew nearer, it projected twin domes of light—not blinding, but definitely noticeable. You know how you can see the edges of a jellyfish, but you can also see through it? That’s what this light reminded me of.

By now, I was freely proclaiming this a UFO, and fumbling around in the dark for my phone. Like many dumb Americans, my sudden hope was to appear on TV. Specifically, I wished to record and submit a video of the object to The Proof is Out There, a History Channel show I enjoy a little too much. They’re actually quite measured in their approach on the show, and they often debunk videos that look for all the world like supernatural phenomena.

Of course, I was hoping I could stump them. I was hoping I could stump myself. I was hoping beyond hope that my friends and I would conclude, without a better explanation, that this was a UFO, and we were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time to witness it.

The object banked quite suddenly, turning its course to our right, toward more trees (in the Adirondacks, there are always more trees). The orbs of light seemed to dim, leaving only the little white spec of the object itself to follow. It proceeded straight from there, looking much more like a traditional passenger plane, then passed out of sight above the woods.

I wanted to believe. I still want to believe. Can you blame me? The X-Files is my favorite show. I’d always yearned for my own close encounter (so long as it didn’t feature rectal probing). Now, I had it.

“We should report it to MUFON,” I told my friends. “That way they can document the sighting.”

“I think it was just a satellite,” Robby replied.

I was about to pounce on him (maybe literally), but Tuna beat me to the punch—verbally, at least.

“The thing that gets me is, it seemed like it came out of nowhere,” he said. “I don’t think a satellite would do that.” Tuna has a doctorate, I might add, so higher education was on my side.

But what was my side, anyway? I wanted to believe we’d witnessed a UFO, true, but a deeper, more logical voice in my mind suggested alternatives. What if it was just a satellite? Or a drone? Or some other Earth-native object I just didn’t recognize?

Back inside the camp, we did the most reliable and trustworthy form of research: Internet research. Google Image Search didn’t turn up anything useful, and I’m pretty sure Reddit told us it was the spectral manifestation of Elvis Presley.

It hardly mattered. I’d made up my mind. I texted my wife at 11:30pm with Ryan’s photos, since mine were ass, as the kids say. “We think we saw a UFO!”, I added.

These are Ryan’s photos. Zoom way in on the left and you’ll see a bright pill shape with a darker outline, which reminded me of the back of the Millennium Falcon (Han and Chewy, was that you?). The right is a little blurrier, although you can see that dome of light I mentioned a bit better.

After reviewing these photos, I was more certain than ever. I awoke the next morning thinking the same thoughts I’d gone to sleep with: What would they think on The Proof is Out There? Would they have a mundane explanation? Or, would my desires become reality? Would they have no choice but to deem it unidentified?

At breakfast, I conferred with Robby. Always logical, he said, “It looks like it was a rocket.”

A Space-Ex rocket, to be exact. There were two launches that night, one from Cape Canaveral, Florida, and apparently, it traveled along the eastern seaboard on its way into the atmosphere.

I reviewed Robby’s evidence, desperate to poke holes in his theory. “But the launch was at 9,” I said, sounding a little whiney, even to myself. “We saw our thing at, like, 10:50. The timestamp’s on my video.” (My crappy video.) “Why would a rocket hang around for two hours?”

Robby explained how sometimes vessels will loop around a few times to gather enough momentum, or something like that. By then I could barely follow him—not that I cared to. Robby’s explanation made sense. He probably had the right of it. It was still a flying object, but it wasn’t unidentified any longer.

I munched my breakfast with a mild sense of disappointment—in the UFO, not in the breakfast. (Breakfast was great: Pizza with eggs and bacon on top, made by Dan.) For a few hours, we were witnesses to an extraterrestrial craft. Now, we were just witnesses.

Truth is, the truth is often boring. There’s a reason Mulder’s always right on The X-Files. Because if Scully was right, if it was always just a rational, scientific explanation, it would be a pretty disappointing show. “I know that really looked like an alien, Mulder,” Scully might say, “but it was just a bald guy with a big head and a bad complexion.”

Mulder always says he wants to believe, and the wanting is what confirms his worldview. Whether it’s aliens or values or sports teams or something else entirely, that’s true for all of us. Desire clouds perception. Yearning warps evidence. Rockets become UFOs, even when they’re just rockets.

So now, back to our boring world. I’ll keep looking up at the skies, watching, waiting. And next time, I promise to get a better photo.

Kyle A. Massa is a comedy author of some sort living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include 10 books, along with several short stories, essays, and poems. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking cheap coffee.

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