Austin Popper
Emperor of Antarctica
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2017
- Messages
- 1,504
- Location
- Colorado, where the gold is still elusive
One of the most interesting characters, to me, in the UFO field is that astute philosopher and commenter on humanity, Glenn Campbell. Of course, given the nature of the UFO field, that is saying something. He has said he is an agnostic when it comes to UFOs and aliens. If aliens are visiting Earth with any frequency, then they seem to be doing quite a good job of minding their own business at least for the most part. He doesn't have enough information to make an intelligent guess as to who they might be or why they might be here, so he shrugs and goes on with things he finds more interesting. I'm generally in agreement with Glenn on most things, and I find his attitude about aliens refreshing and useful. His writing on a vast array of topics is easy to find and worth reading. I suspect he and I are from the same home planet.
This is one of my best weird stories. It's from my tour bus driving days, a time of rich experience for me and one I look back on with great fondness. I met a lot of interesting people, and saw a great deal of the country from where the rubber meets the road, er, so to speak. The job took me to 48 states, the District of Columbia, and several Canadian provinces. It was a blast, a lot of hard work, and a much-needed break from the life I led previously.
The people in the bus tour business who are usually known as Tour Directors, or Tour Guides, are an odd lot. Some are brilliant, adept at keeping a long road trip interesting for the passengers, helpful in many ways, and highly competent at handling whatever situation confronts them. Others, not so much. The TD who figures in this story was one of the more colorful characters doing the job in the Southwestern US in the early 90s. Drivers either loved her or hated her, it seemed. I could see reasons for either opinion after working with her a couple of times, but she was a good soul. I didn't particularly like her, but I had to respect the job she did from the passengers' point of view. They generally loved her, which was reflected in the tips I got. That didn't hurt. I'll call her Jen.
Near the end of an eleven day tour of the Four Corners area, near the end of a long season of tours, we rolled into Taos one evening. Jen and I were both tired, worn out is probably more like it. The hotel staff were extra kind and helpful that evening, relieving us both of some chores we would normally have done ourselves. I took the opportunity to lie down for a quick nap as soon as I got checked in to my room. I may have been listening to music with some headphones, which I often did in order to unwind. Soon it was obvious I was not going to get a snooze, but whatever. Then I became aware of an annoying presence, at least in my mind. I had a mental image of half a dozen or so beings milling around, with no apparent purpose. What the hell was that about? They seemed like your typical grey alien. They had an aura about them that was not particularly malevolent, but quite dark and not at all friendly. I had not been reading on any weird topics in the previous weeks, mostly because I just didn't have the time. I had heard no references made to aliens or the like during the previous few days. Why this image? It felt more like an unseen presence. I tried a few techniques for banishing such random crap, including addressing them directly and telling them in no uncertain terms to get lost. Nothing worked. Finally I gave up, got up off the bed, and went out to tackle my remaining chores for the evening.
I had to clean the bus, fill the fuel tank, and catch up on my paperwork. As it happened, from the driver's seat I was facing the door to my hotel room. Very soon after I started the engine, the door to the room next to mine opened, and out came Jen. She looked disheveled. She walked toward the bus, with a hotel towel held up to her face. She came to the door and climbed in, obviously agitated. None of this was in character for her. Indeed, just about the last place any TD wanted to be after work was back on the bus. The towel had blood on it. She complained of a nosebleed. "I haven't had a nosebleed since I was a kid," she said. She asked if I was going down to the truck stop for fuel, and I said I was. She asked if she could go along. "Sure," I said, thinking she must be desperate for company if she asked such a thing. The truck stop was no oasis, like some, but really just a large convenience store with diesel pumps and a large lot adjacent. Diesel fuel was not available on every third street corner the way it is these days.
"Could you do me a favor?" Jen asked as we pulled in to the fuel island. "Could you get a copy of the National Enquirer? There is a new one out today." I said I would. Normally, I would sooner buy food at Walmart than even look at the Enquirer, let alone purchase one, but I felt so bad for her I gritted my teeth and bought the stupid thing. By the time I got back to the bus, Jen had pretty well regained her composure and her nose had stopped bleeding. There was never any mention of the evening's weird goings-on, and I never told her of my perceptions or whatever they were from about twenty feet away as she was getting her nosebleed. I never had another episode of repulsive little creeps invading my awareness like that. As I recall, that was the last time I worked with Jen. She would sometimes mention UFOs or aliens in her patter while doing her job, but I never got into any real conversation with her on the topic.
For those not versed in the alien abduction literature of the time, nosebleeds were frequently reported as part of the abduction experience. I don't know what happened with Jen, of course, in the adjacent room while I was dealing with my "intruders" on a mental level, but the correlation to the typical abductee experiences of the time are obvious. I don't have an opinion about what happened that evening, and don't need one. I've never had trouble sleeping at night. I know there is the inevitable flurry of attempts at a "rational explanation" coming down the thread, and that is the right of the participants here, no matter how tiresome it might be for me. I'm just saying I usually don't pay much attention to that sort of thing when it involves a story like this, so to those who will cook up things like, "Sleep paralysis caused by temporal lobe epilepsy was trapped in a thermal pocket and reflected the infrasound that must have been present for some reason," I'll just make a blanket response here: Yep, that's probably what it was.
I'm happy to clarify any details or context. Dealing with 40 or more people all day long, in an area smaller than a typical American living room is a fascinating experience and one I don't mind revisiting. I've considered getting back into the business as a Tour Director, but at this point I'd have to spend a few thousand dollars for training first. I'm sure glad I didn't spend the time and money doing that recently, since Covid has made a hash of that business. Tour buses are selling for peanuts these days. One can buy a nice bus with fairly low miles for less than a comparable sedan would go for. It's tempting to buy one to make a motorhome out of, but the maintenance and operating expenses are eye watering in comparison to current purchase prices.
This is one of my best weird stories. It's from my tour bus driving days, a time of rich experience for me and one I look back on with great fondness. I met a lot of interesting people, and saw a great deal of the country from where the rubber meets the road, er, so to speak. The job took me to 48 states, the District of Columbia, and several Canadian provinces. It was a blast, a lot of hard work, and a much-needed break from the life I led previously.
The people in the bus tour business who are usually known as Tour Directors, or Tour Guides, are an odd lot. Some are brilliant, adept at keeping a long road trip interesting for the passengers, helpful in many ways, and highly competent at handling whatever situation confronts them. Others, not so much. The TD who figures in this story was one of the more colorful characters doing the job in the Southwestern US in the early 90s. Drivers either loved her or hated her, it seemed. I could see reasons for either opinion after working with her a couple of times, but she was a good soul. I didn't particularly like her, but I had to respect the job she did from the passengers' point of view. They generally loved her, which was reflected in the tips I got. That didn't hurt. I'll call her Jen.
Near the end of an eleven day tour of the Four Corners area, near the end of a long season of tours, we rolled into Taos one evening. Jen and I were both tired, worn out is probably more like it. The hotel staff were extra kind and helpful that evening, relieving us both of some chores we would normally have done ourselves. I took the opportunity to lie down for a quick nap as soon as I got checked in to my room. I may have been listening to music with some headphones, which I often did in order to unwind. Soon it was obvious I was not going to get a snooze, but whatever. Then I became aware of an annoying presence, at least in my mind. I had a mental image of half a dozen or so beings milling around, with no apparent purpose. What the hell was that about? They seemed like your typical grey alien. They had an aura about them that was not particularly malevolent, but quite dark and not at all friendly. I had not been reading on any weird topics in the previous weeks, mostly because I just didn't have the time. I had heard no references made to aliens or the like during the previous few days. Why this image? It felt more like an unseen presence. I tried a few techniques for banishing such random crap, including addressing them directly and telling them in no uncertain terms to get lost. Nothing worked. Finally I gave up, got up off the bed, and went out to tackle my remaining chores for the evening.
I had to clean the bus, fill the fuel tank, and catch up on my paperwork. As it happened, from the driver's seat I was facing the door to my hotel room. Very soon after I started the engine, the door to the room next to mine opened, and out came Jen. She looked disheveled. She walked toward the bus, with a hotel towel held up to her face. She came to the door and climbed in, obviously agitated. None of this was in character for her. Indeed, just about the last place any TD wanted to be after work was back on the bus. The towel had blood on it. She complained of a nosebleed. "I haven't had a nosebleed since I was a kid," she said. She asked if I was going down to the truck stop for fuel, and I said I was. She asked if she could go along. "Sure," I said, thinking she must be desperate for company if she asked such a thing. The truck stop was no oasis, like some, but really just a large convenience store with diesel pumps and a large lot adjacent. Diesel fuel was not available on every third street corner the way it is these days.
"Could you do me a favor?" Jen asked as we pulled in to the fuel island. "Could you get a copy of the National Enquirer? There is a new one out today." I said I would. Normally, I would sooner buy food at Walmart than even look at the Enquirer, let alone purchase one, but I felt so bad for her I gritted my teeth and bought the stupid thing. By the time I got back to the bus, Jen had pretty well regained her composure and her nose had stopped bleeding. There was never any mention of the evening's weird goings-on, and I never told her of my perceptions or whatever they were from about twenty feet away as she was getting her nosebleed. I never had another episode of repulsive little creeps invading my awareness like that. As I recall, that was the last time I worked with Jen. She would sometimes mention UFOs or aliens in her patter while doing her job, but I never got into any real conversation with her on the topic.
For those not versed in the alien abduction literature of the time, nosebleeds were frequently reported as part of the abduction experience. I don't know what happened with Jen, of course, in the adjacent room while I was dealing with my "intruders" on a mental level, but the correlation to the typical abductee experiences of the time are obvious. I don't have an opinion about what happened that evening, and don't need one. I've never had trouble sleeping at night. I know there is the inevitable flurry of attempts at a "rational explanation" coming down the thread, and that is the right of the participants here, no matter how tiresome it might be for me. I'm just saying I usually don't pay much attention to that sort of thing when it involves a story like this, so to those who will cook up things like, "Sleep paralysis caused by temporal lobe epilepsy was trapped in a thermal pocket and reflected the infrasound that must have been present for some reason," I'll just make a blanket response here: Yep, that's probably what it was.
I'm happy to clarify any details or context. Dealing with 40 or more people all day long, in an area smaller than a typical American living room is a fascinating experience and one I don't mind revisiting. I've considered getting back into the business as a Tour Director, but at this point I'd have to spend a few thousand dollars for training first. I'm sure glad I didn't spend the time and money doing that recently, since Covid has made a hash of that business. Tour buses are selling for peanuts these days. One can buy a nice bus with fairly low miles for less than a comparable sedan would go for. It's tempting to buy one to make a motorhome out of, but the maintenance and operating expenses are eye watering in comparison to current purchase prices.
I will admit I'm not big on the grey alien ETH abduction hypothesis but it does feel to me as if you found yourselves in some sort of paranormal window area and I wouldn't be surprised if that location has a reputation for being haunted or such like...?