How thoughtful. How tasty! We’d be sure to make millions. We’d obviously call it – Groom Lake Lemonade. After catching our breath and wiping the tears from our eyes we started thinking again. Our establishment soon was taking on competitors as we conjured up the new Groom Lake KFC and of course a fabulous Groom Lake T-Bell, which would soon follow (that’s Taco Hell, for those of you who don’t visit quite often enough.) We would continue to talk about stealth paint, aliens, night-vision goggled camo guys, Groom Lake Denny’s, breakfast, and where the leftover Frito’s bag hid. 4:30 am is the last time I have on tape before morning.

It was now about 7:00 am. The Den-man was up and out before I. I finally got up and went directly for my toothbrush. It was another clear day in the desert. We could now see the entire base still sitting silently below us.

It was around this time in the morning when the workers would start coming to work. Strange as it may sound we only saw one car drive in from the asphalt (U.S. 375) over the border and to the base itself. However, we did see the unmarked Boeing 737’s land on the (7-mile long) runway attached to the base. These privately run jets came in roughly about every hour from Las Vegas. Bringing the people (carrying extremely high-security clearances) to work. It was really strange to watch these jets land. The distance from the touch down of their landing gear to the almost complete decelerate of the plane took less than a tenth of the entire runway. That was one hell of a runway down there. After the plane slowed, it would taxi to a ‘parking lotby a nearby hanger. A bus with blacked-out windows would meet the plane.

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Its job was to take the workers to their designated working areas. At the same time, not letting its occupants see what was on the outside.

There the plane stood parked. About another hour (or sometimes half-hour) later, another would land. It would pull up next to the previous one where it would sit all day before ferrying it’s workers home in the evening (we didn’t hang around long enough to see that, however.) I’ve read (again, in the “Viewer’s Guide”) that there are around 12 flights a day. All I can say to that is – somebody has lot’s O’ cash! Whatever happened to the train?

We then packed up the Montero, bid our curious friend farewell, and started back down the four-wheel-drive track. We weren’t as careful going down as we were going up the day before. I glanced at the rental car agreement and was reassured that I had indeed picked up the accidentally trashed springs and bent frame coverage. It was a great drive back to the asphalt. We sailed over several streambeds (catching big air along the way and eventually breaking out the bottom of our AM/PM Mini Market Styrofoam cooler as it popped up into view then crashed down behind the back seat. Yes, it’s contents ended up all over our clothes and floor of the Montero.) We got back to the asphalt road and headed north.

We had to get some food in us. The place for breakfast was The Little A’Le’Inn located about 30 miles north in Rachel, Nevada. A great place to visit while out in the middle of the desert.

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It was, not only the only bar around for 80 miles, but also the only restaurant and motel as well.

We walked in, was greeted by the owners (Joe and Pat Travis), and sat down for a nice breakfast. After eating (the meals consisted of one ham & cheese omelet, one chicken fried steak, about 11 cups of coffee (each) and spuds galore!) We wandered around the place (grasping our coffee), played a little electronic poker (Gaming Summary: Dave: +36 Den +17.25 U.S. Dollars) and read the articles and looked at photos of UFO material which lined the walls of the inn. I think both of us wondered why we didn’t seem something ‘as coolwhile camping. Actually, it was probably a good thing we didn’t. I’d be spooked for life.

Anyway, we chatted with Pat, who told us about a few abduction stories which she’s heard first hand (kinda freaky) then started our long journey back to fabulous Vegas (Gaming Summary: Dave: -45 Den: +27.25 U.S. Dollars). After our horrible loss (actually, my horrible loss), we head on to Stateline (Gaming Summary: Dave +35 Den +7.25 U.S. Dollars) From there it was back to L.A.(again, past the highest-priced gasoline station in America).

Here, we would finish the weekend off by spending all our Nevada winnings and more, on additional alcoholic beverages, tasty Chinese food, and random partying with the Den-man’s brother.

Yeah, I know, this was a pretty long story. Especially since we didn’t get abducted or see any cool spacecraft. (Which, I know, is what you were expecting.) Well, sorrrryyyyy! We tried, and who knows, we may try again.

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Let me tell you though – There is defiantly a lot of secret shit going on out in the middle of the fucking Nevada desert. And whoever it is who has the secret, is doing a pretty damn good job of keeping it. I think everyone knows, however, that one can only keep a secret for so long. Eventually, someone is going to find out. I just wonder if the world is going to ever be conscious enough to realize it when it happens (or if it already has happened). There’s something going on alright, and a recent Gallup Poll shows that over 50% of America’s population believes, “The Truth is Out There.”

Dave Schmitz (a.k.a the writer) currently lives in San Francisco. He works as a Software Engineer (contractor) at the NASA Ames Research Center. Feel free to send questions or comments to:

schmitz@nas.nasa.gov

Den Soltis (a.k.a The Den-man) currently lives in Provo, Utah. He works as an Art Director (and Graphic Artist) for the Western Angler Fishing Magazine.

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