The saucers spotted in the skies in those days were not always saucers; they were just as likely to be cigars, triangles, glowing orbs, bat-winged monstrosities, spinning tops. But when they were saucers they were spectacular saucers: smooth, shiny, aluminum things that twinkled with lights, their pilots peeking from portholes that ringed their sides. The entities spied through the portholes or seen disembarking the craft were equally diverse; there were tall Nordics with peaceful philosophies, stinking lobster-clawed horrors, miniature men wearing antennaed space helmets; they were goblin-like, ape-like, angel-like. It was as if the Earth was being visited by craft from hundreds of planets, as if we were a key stop on some intergalactic highway, a tourist attraction for the stars. The Roswell crash rose to prominence alongside the abduction narrative, each in its own way serving to stifle creativity, shaping the UFO storyline into a monolithic narrative that was foreign to it in the early days..