As you pull into the food store's parking lot, you see a loose shopping cart roll across the lot in a straight line, stop on its own, then turn 90 degrees without touching anything. Most people ignore it, some stare, somebody always cracks a joke, but the cart keeps moving anyway.
A Soft Spot for Hairy Legends
As some of you know, I love everything about Bigfoot (I can actually feel your eyes rolling! You know who you are.) He's always fascinated me, not because of the blurry photos — ever wonder if Bigfoot is simply blurry? — but because too many people with nothing to gain and everything to lose claim they've seen something large, upright, and impossible to explain.
Hunters, loggers, police officers, people who spend their lives outdoors know what, and what doesn't, belong.
- Related: In Defense of Scientific Curiosity: A Response to Bigfoot Skepticism
Bigfoot or Something Like It: The Hunters Have a Point
I want Bigfoot to be real, but also reserve the right to shrug and say, "I dunno."
Bringing up the big, hairy man acts like a social filter for me. Some people laugh and move on; others lean forward, grin, and start asking questions. To me, curiosity says more about intelligence than belief ever could.
That same instinct kicks in whenever pilots start talking about strange objects in the sky.
When Professionals Stop Joking
Recently, a cockpit report described an object hovering beside a jet at cruising altitude. The pilot didn't scream or panic; he reported what he saw, because that's his job. Air traffic control responded with humor, then silence, then concern.
The exchange sounded funny until it didn't.
Pilots train to identify traffic, weather, drones, and military aircraft. They live by awareness—something not earned through paperwork or phone calls after landing.
Decades of Reports, Same Reaction
For decades, pilots have logged similar encounters: objects pacing aircraft, sudden acceleration, no visible propulsion or transponder signals. Military and civilian aviators tell versions of the same story while insisting they don't know what they saw.
Police officers report sightings from the ground with equal seriousness. Trained observers describe lights and shapes that ignore wind, gravity, and common sense.
Skepticism belongs in the conversation, but dismissal feels lazy.
Familiar Names, Familiar Patterns
Naval aviators have spoken publicly about encounters during training missions. David Fravor described an object maneuvering in ways no known aircraft could replicate. Ryan Graves talked about routine sightings that became so common they felt normal.
Nobody claimed extraterrestrial visitors; they claimed that something unknown was operating near restricted airspace.
It's a distinction that matters.
Belief Isn’t the Point
Aliens make headlines, and unknown technology raises harder questions. Our government tests aircraft, while adversaries probe defenses (let's not bring up Biden's spy balloon; it's too bloody embarrassing), sensors fail, and human perception backfires.
All possibilities deserve room.
What doesn't work anymore is pretending that trained professionals hallucinate in matching ways for around 80 years: Aviation safety depends on trust in reports, not eye-rolling.
Saying "I dunno" remains the most honest answer on the table.
Laughing Stops at Thirty Thousand Feet
On the ground, jokes feel easy; at altitude, unknown objects become hazards. Pilots don't need mystery; they require clarity. When something keeps appearing where it shouldn't, curiosity turns practical fast.
Something operates in shared airspace without explanation — maybe advanced tech, misidentified physics, or something else entirely.
The shopping cart keeps rolling, turning, stopping, then gliding off again. People can joke and stare, but eventually, somebody had better chase it down and stop it before it hits a car.
