Maybe I missed something. Maybe I missed the true meaning of UFO, because this party was dull. I imagined families getting into the UFO spirit and dressing up. Children flocking to the face painting booth to be made up like little green men. T shirt stands that sold novelty shirts that looked like Star Trek uniforms or had sayings like “Never Trust A Klingon”. I envisioned a giant UFO bounce house, concession stands with alien concoctions and out of this world fare. A band would play songs that were reminiscent of alien tunes. Synthesizers, beeping and the occasional selection from 2001: A Space Odyssey or Star Wars. Heck I would have taken an obnoxious out of towner in an Alf costume!
Supposedly the area was hit with a rash of actual UFO sightings and cattle mutilations. So, one would think there would be a “traveling wall” that chronicled the sightings. And maybe, just maybe some of the old farts who witnessed said UFO activity could stand around and tell us eager nerds some saucerific yarns. An alien fun house. Something. But neeeeeeeeooooo!
What we got was flea market lite. Vendors sold purses, BIRD HOUSES, and hematite necklaces. The bands played spirituals and hymns. (I LOVE spirituals and hymns, but not in relation to UFO’s.) The food was typical and expensive with nothing exciting in sight. (No deep fried Oreo’s: the epitome of alien food.) We got shaved ice and lemonade from a very nice couple. Friendliness was definitely not in short supply. That wasn’t my issue. I asked Jacob several times where the aliens were? We were perplexed.
The bounce houses were giraffes, the prizes at the game booths were clown fish and cowgirl hats. Oh, and to the vendor with the STUPID-“Put on your big girl panties…” shirts, please burn the shirts. No one wants that airbrush junk.
Maybe we went to early, but we were there long enough to be very disappointed. Fyffe UFO Days could be something AMAZING. For now its just an Unfortunate Forgettable Opinicus.