TRAVEL 14/2019 Spotlight 33Fotos: David John Weber
turn onto State Route 375. “Cattle Xing
next 5 miles” is nothing compared with
the next roadside announcement, a metal
placard covered in stickers of spaceships
and slogans guaranteeing the existence
of life beyond Earth. We can just about
make out its name: the Extraterrestrial
Highway. This is the famous, 100-mile sec-
tion of the 375 that runs past the military
installation known as Area 51.11:30 a.m.
The Quonset hut guarded by a huge metal
spaceman at this end of the Extraterrestri-
al Highway is the Alien Research Center.
Lovers of science fiction, of mysteries
surrounding the 1947 UFO incident
in Roswell, New Mexico, the X Files TV
series, Star Trek, Star Wars, etc., would be
justified in wanting more. But this is a
gift shop selling cold drinks and Area 51
souvenirs, and that’s about it.
Area 51, the focus of a high-profile
Facebook “joke event” in September, is a
secret US Air Force base within the three-
million-acre Nevada Test and Training
Range, which occupies much of southern
Nevada. The goth store clerk at the center
entertains us with anecdotes of visitors
claiming to have been abducted, close to
the test range, by aliens. One even offered
to allow this clerk to “touch her transmit-
ter,” the one the extraterrestrials had em-
bedded in her side. The Travel Channel
was due to come through, the clerk added,
to record part of a show about her store.
I buy socks showing an alien abduction
— a person caught in a green tractor beam,
being sucked up into a flying saucer —
but pass on a T-shirt showing the original
Star Trek crew: too retro. Salt-and-pepper
shakers shaped like aliens call out to my
wallet, as do Star Wars refrigerator mag-
nets. The big fans blowing streams of air
around keep the hut’s interior cool.
Outside, the sun is high and hot. Even
if aliens aren’t getting any closer, lunch-
time is. We steer the RV back onto the
highway, where a sign warns of “low-
flying aircraft.” It crosses my mind to let
Fox Mulder and Dana Scully know, but
flying objects out here are usually oper-
ated by the US military. We’re on our way
to Rachel, the human settlement closest
to Area 51, and its cafe, the Little A’Le’Inn
(pronounced “alien”).
Along the way, a big rock proposes
“Let’s get abducted” in old black graffiti.The RV rolls on. The sagebrush-lined
road leads our Winnebago spaceship into
Nevada’s own weird desert dimension of
space-time.12:30 p.m.
Rachel is but a tiny group of houses, yet
Earthlings travel here in great numbers to
visit its cantina. Inside the Little A’Le’Inn,
I’m greeted by the sight of six real “aliens”
— French tourists — all drinking cheap
American beer. Area 51 bumper stickers
and UFO -themed coffee cups are on of-
fer here. Superannuated staff, stressed by
the growing lunch crowd, rush about with
sandwiches on paper plates. A handwrit-
ten note on the wall says: “Now hiring,
all shifts.” The menu sells “Galax wings”
(low-carb) for $9.25, or a “saucer burger”
with fries, same price. Cake costs $2.99.
Pie — “alien fruit,” cherry, or blueberry —
costs $3.49, and there’s ice cream. Annie,
our waitress, asks, “Are you writing in a
diary?” I nod. “Write, ‘Annie is old.’” I do
as I’m told. Another sign on the wall reads:
“Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.”
And another: “Today is not your day, and
tomorrow doesn’t look good either.”
After a long wait, Annie comes out of
the kitchen with a tray full of cheesebur-
gers, which she delivers to the French. At
the bar, Roger, a chubby little Chihuahua,
is being pushed gently out the door by his
owner. The dog is picked up, kissed, then
gone. The back wall of the cafe is covered
with “photos” of UFOs and aliens and
old pictures of real military aircraft. The
two are often conflated in these parts, so
it makes sense to display them together
— like related species.
Annie’s back. She puts burgers and
Faygo root beers on our table. Just then, a
couple in their mid-thirties comes in: He
is a handsome cowboy type, and she is the
loveliest creature this place has probably
ever seen. The woman says to Annie, “This
the lunch rush, right?” Annie, shaking her
head, replies, “Still trying to figure out
where they all came from.”
The couple are now running a tattoo
parlor in Reno, in western Nevada, ex-
plains the pretty woman, but this has only
been since she gave up exotic dancing (a
recent development, it seems). This cafe
hasn’t changed in the 20 years she’s been
coming through, she says — even back to
her younger days, when she was still tour-
ing the area on the rodeo circuit.abduct [Äb(dVkt]
, entführen
acre [(eIk&r]
, Morgen (4.047 m^2 )
alien [(eIliEn]
, Fremdling, Außer-
irdische(r)
beer holder
[(bI&r )hoUld&r]
, Bierhalter(in); korrekt
heißt es: „beauty is in
the eye of the beholder“
(Betrachter(in))
bumper sticker
[(bVmp&r )stIk&r]
, Autoaufkleber
cattle Xing (crossing)
[(kÄt&l )krO:sIN]
, Vorsicht Viehtrieb
chubby [(tSVbi]
, rundlich, pummelig
conflate [kEn(fleIt]
, verbinden
earthling [(§:TlIN]
, Erden bürger(in)
embed [Im(bed]
, einpflanzenfan [fÄn]
, hier: Ventilator
goth [gA:T] ifml.
, Grufti-
pie [paI]
, gedeckter Kuchen
Quonset hut
[(kwAnset hVt]
, Wellblechhütte
root beer [(ru:t bI&r]
N. Am.
, Limonade aus Kräuter-
und Wurzelauszügen
sagebrush [(seIdZbrVS]
, Salbeistrauch
saucer [(sO:s&r]
, Untertasse
shaker [(SeIk&r]
, Streuer
store clerk [(stO:r kl§:k]
, Verkäufer(in)
superannuated
[)su:pEr(ÄnjueItEd]
, ältlich, pensioniert
tractor beam
[(trÄkt&r bi:m]
, TraktorstrahlThe world-famous
cafe in Rachel, Nevada
(population: 54)