Happy New Year!

Greetings, Loyal Readers: I apologize for the blogging hiatus, and beg your forgiveness. It's been a busy and satisfying week for me, though, and I'll do my best to bring you up to date on the alien encounters, foreign intrigue, and historical education that've kept me occupied.

The morning after Christmas, immediately after swim practice, Tanner and I loaded up the car and began our trip toward New Mexico. Despite meteorological reports touting the beautiful weather, we started off in a snowstorm (which appeared to be localized to the area directly surrounding my car). But by the time we hit Monument Hill, the skies had cleared and precipitation ended. The wind continued to blow, and did so throughout the entire trip, but we never saw another cloud until we returned to Denver several days later.

Our main goal for the trip was to find out what really happened in 1947, and to experience the UFO-crazed culture of Roswell. Beyond that, we agreed to stop at any interesting tourist site we happened upon along the way. And since we were going so far toward the south, we also wanted to try to find an authentic Mexican restaurant.

So where did we stop for lunch? KFC. Way to push the envelope, dudes.

The first cool-looking tourist spot we found was the Las Vegas visitor's center. (Yes, there is also a Las Vegas in New Mexico. Instead of casinos, this one features only dry sagebrush and tumbleweeds. But the visitor center looked nice.) Unfortunately, they apparently didn't plan for a couple of guys from Colorado dropping by to visit on the day after Christmas -- they were closed. Bummer.

The next stop was the Ft. Sumner Museum, which features Billy the Kid's Grave. Unfortunately the museum was closed, but we were able to wander through the graveyard to our heart's content...which didn't take long. Even though Billy was famous, his gravestone was pretty dull. And the few other graves in the cemetary were even less spectacular. We were on the road again before too awful long; next stop, Roswell!

It's a good thing I was accompanied by an interesting conversationalist, because the road from Ft. Sumner to Roswell was as empty as Mike Shanahan's locker. During one stretch, we drove for almost a half hour without seeing another car, human, or manifestation of civilization. No wonder the aliens picked New Mexico for their landing!

Roswell is actually a pretty nice little town. There are a few indications of its UFO connections, but not as many as you might expect. The McDonald's PlayPlace is shaped a bit like a flying saucer, the Post Office has an R2D2 box, and a few of the restaurants say "Welcome, Aliens" on the marquee, but otherwise, it's no different than any other small American town of the Southwest. It's a nice place.

I'm not sure you can attribute any of this to aliens, but the motel room had no spindle for the toilet paper holder, several missing light fixtures where bare wires protruded from the walls, and a television set that defaulted to C-SPAN. But the price was right, the beds were comfy, and the neighbors quiet...so we enjoyed an excellent night of rest and woke up excited about seeing the museum.

I know that you're probably expecting me to go on and on about government cover-ups and military conspiracies, and to rant about the truth being out there and demanding that our new President come clean about what's really hidden in Area 51, etc etc. But to my surprise, the museum actually took a pretty even-handed approach in describing the events of 1947 -- and the conclusion was that...well, people got confused.

They did have a fascinating display on crop circles, as well as some posters/props from various alien-themed TV shows, movies, and "documentaries". And if that weren't enough, there was a gift shop where you could buy all sorts of doodads, t-shirts, and office supplies with little green men on them. The fellow behind the counter was certainly enjoying himself--he wanted to tell each and every customer that he was "livin' the dream" working there. And he was serious! It made me smile.

But I still didn't buy anything at the gift shop. Not even Christmas ornaments.

After we left the museum, Tanner and I debated whether we should eat lunch, visit other tourist attractions in Roswell, or go to Mexico. And while we recognized that we were probably missing some excellent cultural opportunites by vacating the town so soon, we finally decided that our overall vacation experience would be enhanced even more by heading on south. (Of course, what we didn't realize was that we wouldn't find anyplace to eat for several more hours. Probably shoulda eaten in Roswell. Have I mentioned that much of New Mexico is as empty as Barney Fife's revolver? As vacant as Paris Hilton's cranium? Well...it is.)

Please don't get on my case about disrepecting the "stark beauty" of the high desert. Hey, I appreciate the aesthetic appeal of vast wastes of open space as much as anybody. Scrub brush, sand, and the occasional cactus do indeed make for some fine visual experiences, I'll grant you that. But let's face it, when your land is too barren for even prairie dogs to live there, well, it doesn't take long before you're wishing the speed limit was about 200 mph.

Our plan was to tour Carlsbad Caverns, find a place to stay near there, and then hang around to watch the bats fly out of the cave in the evening. I know you're dying to hear about all of it -- Will the boys opt for the elevator ride...or the long trail that descends into the bowels of the cavern? Will the bats suddenly attack the crowd and feast upon the blood of the onlookers? Will we finally learn the meaning of the word "spelunking"? And what the heck do bats and stalagmites have to do with the adventure of going into the fabled land of Old Mexico?

Stay tuned, my friends, and the answers to these questions will be revealed in future postings. In the meantime, have a great day!