Many years ago, I was shopping with my daughter in an outdoor mall when I suddenly needed to go to the toilet. The closest facility was in a public bar, so we headed through the lounge to a small back hallway. Luckily, it was late morning on a weekday, so not too many people around, because the washroom only had two cubicles.
I remember the washroom very well. It had dark navy blue painted walls and no windows, and it had only one small white ceramic washbasin.
My daughter and I entered the cubicles to do what we needed to do but I finished first. After washing my hands, I decided to wait in the small hallway outside the washroom door, because the space inside the washroom was barely enough to stand and wash your hands. I was cognizant that if someone else entered the room, they would find it hard to move past me to the cubicle.
The small hallway outside the washroom was a plain affair – simply a passageway disguising the washroom door from the lounge, and with an opening at either end. I placed my back against its blank wall to wait for my daughter, and could easily see what was going on at either end with just a small turn of my head.
So it was with some very great surprise that, as I stood there, an elegant older woman with a shock of styled white hair, dressed in a narrow belted cream linen frock and high heels, walked out of the same washroom door I had just exited from.
In the short time that I had stood in the hallway, no one else had entered it. No one else had gone into the washroom. And I knew that the washroom only had two toilet cubicles.
The woman walked past me, almost brushing me as she went, but we didn’t touch. I watched as she exited the small hallway into the bar lounge and then, with curiosity getting the better of me, I poked my head back through the washroom door, just to make sure it was exactly as I remembered it. And it was. Two cubicles, no windows, no cupboards, and no other doors other than the cubicle door I had only recently exited. Where had that old lady come from? How did she get past me into the washroom and even if somehow I blinked and missed it, how did she do what she needed to do in the very small amount of time since I had exited?
It struck me that if aliens did walk amongst us, or travelers from the future, what better place for the end of their traveling wormhole to appear than an empty washroom cubicle? Who would even blink twice if they emerged from one (I did, of course, since the circumstances were extremely odd…)
When my daughter finally emerged, I told her of my experience. She smiled and didn’t say much, even though I pointed out the lack of entry to the washroom, other than the door in the small hallway where we were standing. I don’t know if she believed me or not. Maybe slotted it in the ‘too hard’ basket, as others often do. Maybe thought her mother was having an ‘episode’ (I’m known for some zany ideas, after all) or was reading too much into the situation than was there.
Even my husband didn’t pay too much attention to the story of my experience, later, since he likes to question all my odd experiences and begins examination from a point of implied coincidence unless I can provide concrete proof – which I couldn’t.
I still thought about this incident for a while afterwards. Did the traveler know I was there and didn’t care because I was one of those people they could trust with that knowledge, or didn’t that matter because other people wouldn’t believe me even if the evidence clearly showed I had reason to question what was going on? (I was the only one who saw that woman, after all, and she wasn’t in the bar lounge when we exited the hallway).
This small event became just a passing experience and a story, easily forgotten in the passage of time, as such things often do unless other people join in the conversation.
I wondered how many others have experiences like that and so easily slip back into the mores of their mundane lives, which are far easier to deal with than to address such small incidents with any real depth?
While others may have fobbed me off when I related this story, I know what I saw and have never forgotten the details because I was so surprised and examined the logicality of it at the time.
I wished that somehow the woman actually had brushed against me, so that I could confirm she was real – though in all visual sense, she certainly was – but at the time I was doing my best to be polite and to keep my back as much against the wall as possible so she could get past without interference.
The experience was a first for me and I have not had one like it, since, though I do have a very observant eye on the world. Nor could I say that she was a spirit entity, because she just did not have that prickling sense you can get when around one, and was just so visually sharp and real. (Although I do remain open to that option, my feelings about the experience say otherwise).
In later years, a television documentary showed just how much people can miss, going through their days. It showed that a lot can be going on that the mind does not see, even though the brain records it.
When people were shown videos of odd things happening around them while they sat at their desks or plied their tasks, that they missed and did not register, nor remarked on when previously asked to detail what had been going on during those specific time frames, they were surprised to see the odd things happening around them in those recordings.
People are selective about what they focus on and what they choose to take notice of. It makes you realize that a lot can be happening around you that just doesn’t register.
So I think that if aliens or time travelers are smart enough to get here, then they are most likely smart enough to have figured out these behavioral flaws in the human race, and they are smart enough to capitalize on that.
If you are still looking for alien greys or little green men, adjust your mindset. Because the people you are looking for are just like you and me. Or, better than that, they are people you would not think at all could be aliens, people you stand aside to allow room for (like the elegant older woman I saw), or appear in such a way that you silently give them respect or consideration without even attempting to touch or engage.
Smart people, those aliens.