Thinking of wrapping up an evening of Alien Anal-Probing at Area 51, Nevada? Let me tell you about my experience...

At night, alone in the woods, hunting, with only my trusty coon-dawg, Rufus. Rufus starts howlin', and suddenly huge shafts of blue light burst from the tree tops. I am lifted from the ground, by some kind of tractor-beam technology. I give one last look to Rufus, before I black out.

Next I am lying on an examination table, wearing only a paper gown. I have some superficial burns and lacerations - I must have been in some kind of fiery crash. Glancing over to the examination tables next to mine, I see melon-headed green dead aliens laid out, while government scientists probe and perform alien autopsies. In the corner of the massive, otherwise empty, warehouse, I see Air Force military carefully arranging alien spacecraft technology on chalk outlines in the floor.

Sipping black coffee from an Air Force Area 51 souvenir coffee mug, I find out I am one of tens of thousands of hick rural Americans abducted by space aliens, yearly. The gift store is well stocked with glow-in-the-dark melon-headed alien bobble-heads, and green rubbery pencil toppers. To replace my paper gown, I buy a "Area 51 - Anal Probe Survivor" track suit - it fits a little snug around the shoulders, cheap stitching betraying the manufacture in some sweatshop in China. Hardly worth the $48.95 I paid for it.

The food court was underwhelming. My "Alien Tentacles" fried beer-battered squid nibblings tasted semi-rancid, and grease soaked through the cardboard serving tray. The roller-coaster queue was 10 rows deep. I ducked into a "3-D Movie-scope Presentation: The Magic of Intergalactic Travel and Abduction" narrated by Whoopie Goldberg. The cheap 3-D glasses did nothing more than give me a sickening sense of vertigo, as computer animated purple aliens bobbed around a brightly colored spacecraft, while enjoying many different Coke-A-Cola brand drinks.

Area 51 was no Dollyworld, that is for sure.