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Land request boosts saucer heads' curiosity of Area 51

Al Centauri sat at the Tap House blubbering into his Budweiser and squeezing a tattered copy of his favorite book, "Extraterrestrials: See One, Be One."

His moping ran contrary to his affable and optimistic, if slightly paranoid, nature. Thinking he might have experienced a death in the family, or worse, a close encounter of no moment, I approached with concern and caution.

Concern, because on most days Al is a fellow member of the planet. Caution, because the guy is a babbling UFO nut. As a columnist, I subscribe to a simple philosophy: Freaks are our friends because they make good copy.

Unlike Al, I'm not convinced the military is hiding flying saucers at the Nevada Test Site within the top-secret confines of Area 51. That the government, which creates $600 toilet seats and can't keep its super-secret Stealth fighter under wraps, somehow could keep alien carcasses on ice for two generations is a bit far-fetched.

Skepticism clogs my veins like cholesterol. I'm not saying extraterrestrials don't exist. I'm just saying I've never seen one.

Unless you count Ross Perot. Al spends his spare time staring into the night, keeping a sharp eye out for Unidentified Flying Objects. On weekends, he sips beer at the Little A 'Le' Inn in Rachel and conducts expeditions within binocular distance of Area 51 and the you-know-whos.

He swears he's seen them, or at least something suspicious looking.

Al is a true believer.

That's why he was sobbing over the Air Force's move to ban public access to 4,000 acres of land outside Groom Lake. An Air Force official said Wednesday the land grab was essential to keep the enemy from taking a gander at America's secret stuff.

Which is pretty funny when you think about it. With the recent revelation that top CIA operations officer Aldrich H. Ames allegedly traded confidential documents to the Soviet Union for cash, the so-called bad guys haven't been short of information for many years. The chance they'd need to peek at Area 51 would seem remote.

Al suspects something else is at work. But then he always suspects something else is at work. "It's a conspiracy, simple as that," He said, squeezing his UFO Bible. "It's like the Kennedy thing, the Elvis thing. Even the Sasquatch thing. The government's afraid we're going to see something they've been keeping secret for a long, long time."

"What's that, Al?"

"You know," he said, raising his book. "The truth about extraterrestrial life forms. The truth about UFOs. The truth about visitations."

"Could it be military officials are concerned they may be exposed for wasting millions of taxpayer dollars on marginally useful projects in the post-Cold War era?"

"No, nothing like that," Al said. "They're afraid their little UFO charade will finally be uncovered."

"I see. It's the spaceship police."

Although I'd never tell him so, people like Al possess a character trait I admire.

No, not rampant paranoia.

An undying belief in a force greater than Big Brother. That's what I love most about the Area 51 phenomenon. It's the unbridled optimism of the true believers. Conservative Muslim sects have nothing on saucer heads in the fanaticism department.

Sure, they rattle on about E.T.s like a collection of heat stroke victims, but in a largely godless world they have something that keeps them thinking about the Great Beyond. I like that.

Give or take a nut case, it's a harmless activity that helps keep Rachel alive. Even if it's nonsense, it makes no less sense than some of the activities that have gone on at the test site.

Without Area 51 those UFO aficionados probably would be ringing your doorbell Sunday morning, soliciting donations for the Temple of Herbs and Incense. Pushing members of the spaceship search team from the test site fringe only would add to the UFO mystery.

What's worse, it would spoil their fun, crush their dream and stifle their strange religion.

It's every American's inalienable right to dream.

Meanwhile, Al is squeezing his crystals, reading his books and praying to be abducted before the Air Force ruins everything.

"I expect to be called soon," Al said, flashing me a funny peace sign. "Live long and prosper."

"You too, man. And say hello to Elvis for me. Tell him I loved him in 'Viva Las Vegas.'"