I have been trying to understand why I find myself utterly fascinated by the recent launch of the James Webb Space Telescope (JWST). I have never been a “science nerd,” and when I encounter technical jargon in the articles I read about the JWST, my eyes glaze over. Additionally, as my Mother can attest, my mathematical skills have never progressed much beyond two plus two. Without the twice-weekly tutoring of my longsuffering Uncle Bill, I would still be attempting to pass 10th Grade geometry.

So why am I devouring every scrap of news about this new marvel of technology? Perhaps it is such a welcome diversion from the daily news of this country’s descent into hatred, armed camps, and fear, all fed by misinformation fomented across the internet. Or perhaps my mind is challenged by the idea of a contraption able to peer so far back in time it can see our universe as it appeared billions and billions of years ago.

More likely, however, it stems from a childhood shaped by television coverage of the early days of space travel, and steeped in Star Trek (I watched each episode on our black and white TV set as it was aired each week on NBC) as well as a surfeit of mostly bad science fiction movies. My best friend, Keith, was more scientifically sophisticated than I, and we spent endless hours discussing the possibility of alien life surreptitiously visiting earth, tantalizing mere humans with their advanced capabilities.

One Friday night, Keith and I were having a sleepover at my house. As we watched some mundane program on television I glanced above the TV set and, through the rabbit ears antennae garlanded with tin foil, I spotted an honest-to-goodness, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die UFO. It appeared to consist of a large stationary ball with a flat rotating disk beneath it. Multi-colored lights winked on and off the edges of the disk. For a few seconds my brain could not process what I was seeing, but then the adrenalin kicked in.

“Keith!” I shrieked, pointing to the window. He jumped from his chair and raced to see the object of my excitement. To my delight, he saw it too, proving I was not hallucinating. “Let’s get a better look!” he cried, and we bolted through the door into the back yard. The UFO looked the same out in the open as it had through the window, and we clapped each other on the back, congratulating one another on our astounding discovery. We imagined newspaper headlines reading, “Ten-Year-Old Boys Discover Alien Spacecraft.” Local and national news outlets would descend upon our humble abodes in Decatur, Georgia to interview us. We might even get out of doing homework for a few weeks.

Keith took note of the direction the UFO was flying and realized it was heading toward his house, so he called his parents with the news. “It’s heading your way, Mom, so go outside and get a good look at it!” While we waited for his Mom and Dad to call back telling us they could see little green men waving at them from the portholes on the ship, our sense of civic duty surfaced. After all, the aliens’ intent might be nothing more than sightseeing, or they could be scouting landing sites for a full-scale intergalactic invasion. If they wanted to start by turning their ray-guns on our school, they were welcome.

So, should we report this to “the authorities”? The only “authorities” we knew how to contact were the local police, and they would have to do. Keith called the police station (this was long before the advent of 911), and calmly informed the desk clerk of our discovery. “And you think this was a flying saucer from outer space?” drawled the policeman without even thinly veiled incredulity. “Okay. Thanks.” He hung up. Keith and I were nonplussed. Here we were trying to be good citizens, maybe even heading off an interstellar apocalypse, and the police thought us silly preteens who had come up with a different version of calling a store and asking if they had Prince Albert in a can.

The phone rang. It was Keith’s Mom. “Your Dad and sister and I went out in the front yard and got a good look at it,” she said. “It’s not a flying saucer. It’s an airplane pulling a lighted sign behind it.” “That can’t be!” protested Keith. “We saw it with our own eyes.” “Yeah, well, it was much closer to us when it went by, and we all got a good look at it. It’s an airplane pulling an advertisement sign with lights around it.”

“An advertisement sign?” Keith sputtered. “What was it advertising?” His Mom replied, “It said, ‘Drink Tahitian Treat.’”

I will continue to follow the progress of the James Webb Space Telescope as it searches for distant images of this universe as well as signs of intelligent life. But if it comes across a blinking sign saying “Drink Tahitian Treat” I am going to be really mad.