All eyes were on the eastern horizon, for some reason, and it was the perfect opportunity for someone like me to indulge in a little mischief. Pick the pockets of those hapless souls, perhaps... easy to do since not a one of them was looking my way. No, every single one of them had their eyes focused to the east, waiting for something. I had no idea what it was and I didn't care. I had my own problems, had my own crises to deal with, and it wasn't going to help things one bit to get involved in this.
"There it is!" somebody yelled. A few people pointed skyward, and any heads that weren't already swung to that inclination made the adjustment.
"I can't see it. Can't see a damn thing," muttered an older gentleman in front of me. I scanned the skies for a brief moment, thinking that I might see whatever it was and let him know where to look, or what to look for -- I still had no idea what this was all about -- but all I could see was the sky, a few meandering clouds, and nothing else. Somewhere, somebody in the crowd started strumming a guitar, started to sing "This Land Is Your Land."
Hippies, no doubt. Throwbacks to a time when people actually sang folks songs, actually knew who Woodie Guthrie was. I gave up my momentary sky scan, bailed on the old guy, and walked north, along the wall of people looking east. I might as well have been inspecting the troops.
As I passed behind a women in a long, flowing peasant dress, she stepped backwards, almost directly into my path. She scanned the ground around her for a moment and then spotted me.
"Excuse me, but I could use some help here. I dropped my... um... well, my opera glasses. Sort of a miniature binocular on a stick."
"Really?" I said. "Because I was walking up the path behind you and didn't hear anything hit the ground."
"Oh, no, I'm sure I dropped it. I was holding it in one hand and decided to take a look with my bare eyes to see if I could find anything, and that's when it tipped out of my hands and fell. It must be here somewhere..."
She continued to scan the ground as she talked. "Really, they should trim the grass once in a while. It would make things an awful lot... well, hello! Look what we have here!"
She bent over and retrieved the item in question, one pair of opera glasses, and held it up for me to see.
"If opera glasses fall in the woods," I asked, "does anyone hear them?"
"Probably not, especially if the woods are really fields of grass. But thank you for stopping, anyway!"
"No problem," I said. "But I do have a question for you. What is everyone looking for?"
"World peace," she said. "Either that or a flying saucer from Alpha Centauri. The Crab Nebula, maybe, or something like that. Most of them came to look for a UFO, but I came for a date."
I frowned involuntarily. Date? She wasn't with anyone, and I couldn't imagine a woman her age cruising the crowd for someone to pick up. But that could have been my own personal prejudice. I'm sure single people of all ages have to look somewhere, and a crowd of UFO-seekers was as likely a place as any to meet someone.
She saw my look and quickly explained herself. "He was supposed to meet me here. One of those online things. I figured the worst that would happen would be that I'd find myself on a windswept coastline enjoying the sun, and that's about what I'm doing."
UFOs. I suppose they might come swooping in over the Atlantic ocean, in formation, ready to do whatever it is that UFOs do, but I was heartened by the knowledge that so many people were here to greet them. Or tell them to go back home. It wasn't clear what anyone's purpose was, other than to scan the skies.
"Well, good luck to you, wind sweeping and all," I said. "And the same to you," she replied, and I resumed my journey. "...and miles to go before I sleep," I thought. Something like that. Robert Frost isn't my strong suit.
"Excuse me, but I could use some help here. I dropped my... um... well, my opera glasses. Sort of a miniature binocular on a stick."
"Really?" I said. "Because I was walking up the path behind you and didn't hear anything hit the ground."
"Oh, no, I'm sure I dropped it. I was holding it in one hand and decided to take a look with my bare eyes to see if I could find anything, and that's when it tipped out of my hands and fell. It must be here somewhere..."
She continued to scan the ground as she talked. "Really, they should trim the grass once in a while. It would make things an awful lot... well, hello! Look what we have here!"
She bent over and retrieved the item in question, one pair of opera glasses, and held it up for me to see.
"If opera glasses fall in the woods," I asked, "does anyone hear them?"
"Probably not, especially if the woods are really fields of grass. But thank you for stopping, anyway!"
"No problem," I said. "But I do have a question for you. What is everyone looking for?"
"World peace," she said. "Either that or a flying saucer from Alpha Centauri. The Crab Nebula, maybe, or something like that. Most of them came to look for a UFO, but I came for a date."
I frowned involuntarily. Date? She wasn't with anyone, and I couldn't imagine a woman her age cruising the crowd for someone to pick up. But that could have been my own personal prejudice. I'm sure single people of all ages have to look somewhere, and a crowd of UFO-seekers was as likely a place as any to meet someone.
She saw my look and quickly explained herself. "He was supposed to meet me here. One of those online things. I figured the worst that would happen would be that I'd find myself on a windswept coastline enjoying the sun, and that's about what I'm doing."
UFOs. I suppose they might come swooping in over the Atlantic ocean, in formation, ready to do whatever it is that UFOs do, but I was heartened by the knowledge that so many people were here to greet them. Or tell them to go back home. It wasn't clear what anyone's purpose was, other than to scan the skies.
"Well, good luck to you, wind sweeping and all," I said. "And the same to you," she replied, and I resumed my journey. "...and miles to go before I sleep," I thought. Something like that. Robert Frost isn't my strong suit.
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