I was doing my job, driving a taxi and listening to George Noory on the radio.
Just another redeye airport run from Ponte Vedra to Jacksonville International Airport.
Since I was in the historic downtown area of St. Augustine, I decided to take Coastal Highway through Vilano Beach on the way to pick up my fare.
Now granted, I had been listening to a program about ancient aliens—not alien abductions, thank God—and wasn’t paying much attention to anything except the road.
Then, up ahead, I saw what appeared to be a roadblock.
Lots and lots of annoying red and blue emergency lights—the kind that severely impact the night vision of cabbies.
When I pulled up, I was mildly surprised to find what appeared to be a military presence.
An MP asked to see my hack license and taxi insurance, which I dutifully handed over. She rather gruffly asked what my business was before sending me on my way.
Well, the taxi business can get a little dull.
Now my curiosity was getting the better of me.
I started looking around, and some funny stuff appeared to be happening on the beach. I realize sea turtles might have been hatching, but this seemed like a bit much military hardware for even the most ardent ecology lovers.
I continued on, picked up my fare and made the airport run.
By then George Noory’s program was over.
My curiosity wasn’t.
So instead of going home like a sensible person, I came back south along Coastal Highway—even though it put me miles out of my way.
When I reached the roadblock again, I was told the area was cordoned off.
Or was it quarantined?
Either way, Abraxi Taxi wasn’t getting through.
From where I sat, there appeared to be an extraordinary amount of equipment and people working around some unknown object on the beach.
So What Was It?
I don’t have any proof.
I didn’t see little green men. Nobody invited me aboard a spacecraft. And as far as I know, the Men in Black have never investigated Abraxi Taxi.
Perhaps it was simply a military training exercise or some other perfectly ordinary operation that looked considerably more mysterious at three o’clock in the morning.
But after I got home and slept for a while, I bought newspapers and searched online looking for an explanation.
I never found one.
So I will probably never know what really happened that night on Vilano Beach.
Was it something completely ordinary?
Probably.
Was it a massive government cover-up involving a downed alien spacecraft?
Well…
That makes a considerably better taxi story.
Driving a cab involves long hours and plenty of routine—but every once in a while, the Ancient City gives you a night you never forget.
Abraxi Taxiom: When the meter stops, curiosity keeps running.
