Missing Time

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I awake to the mid-day sun streaming through my blinds, slicing through the black veil of my eyelids. With that I am brought once again into the lucid world. I begin the pick up the pieces of last night night scattered across my brain like a broken mirror. I take a warm, embracing shower, yet it does not completely rid my head of the infernal pounding. It’s as if Satan himself is knocking on the door of my skull saying “Let me in! Let me in!”
Despite this, after a few hours I was able to recall most of the night before. It was your standard revelry – house party, few beers in the backpack, then some stack-cup where things took a turn for the chugging hard liquor. We then made the ill-informed decision to go to the Spot. It was OK, cheap drinks, cheap laughs. Then… nothing. I got home at some point, because I remember that episode of the X Files I watched on Netflix around 3 am. But… what happened in between? Like a Taylor Swift album, there’s a blank space in there somewhere. How did I get home? Where was I before that? Just like an alien abductee on the X-Files, I had experienced missing time. 
That led me to think – what if what most people perceive as an abduction by extraterrestrials was actually just them getting really, really drunk. Think about it – it makes a lot of sense when you apply the logic of “these people were shitfaced” to any of these cases. Say you have the instance of a young couple who drive their car out to their favourite makeout spot, overlooking the town. Just as it’s about to get hot and heavy, a bright light appears from the sky, knocking them out. They awake next to each other on separate examination tables inside the spaceship, with the alien beings performing several experiments on them. Sometimes the beings speak to them telepathically. The abductees are given a tour of the ship, before being dropped back to Earth. Though it feels like hours have passed, it has been only 20 minutes, and neither of them can really comprehend what has happened. Most of these elements make up the standard abductee narrative seen in the vast majority of cases. So what’s going on? I’ll tell ya what’s going on – they got blackout drunk and went to the Spot. 
It’s a pretty solid explanation. The spot at night, when you’re really plastered, could theoretically be mistaken for the interior of a intergalactic spaceship. Its sign can be confused for the bright lights from the ship that suck you in. The blue lights give it an otherworldly ambience. The thumping music slowly worming its way into your brain could be easily mistaken for some horrible alien dialect being communicated telepathically. The probing and exploring of your body by multiple alien beings is basically the dancefloor with a lot of frosh and weird townies grinding up against you. You take a few $2.50 shots, wander your way around – perfect explanation for a trance-like tour of the ship. Then: POOF!! You’re back at home. Of course you don’t remember what happened – you were fuckin wasted!
So there it is – missing time can simply be accounted for because you were entirely incoherent and lost track of time. And you weren’t inside an alien spaceship, ya dingus, it was the Spot. I know it feels gross and shameful, but it’s the truth. You shouldn’t feel bad – it wasn’t your fault. It was probably your shitty friends’ fault for dragging you out there in the first place. 

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