He comes home from an overnight shift at Buffalo Color Corporation. He had worked shift work and did a double shift for triple overtime. There was a roof top that was only accessible by fire exit ladder.

Next to the hidden tanks where the men would try to sleep for 30 minutes on an overnight shift after downing a 12 case of budweiser (Danny-you shouldn’t smoke near the tanks).

You took your break wherever you could find a place to snooze for a minute. The men would pre internet era troll one another with low quality printer pictures of their spouses and “asshole” written across the top.

The workers at Buffalo Color worked in the old Bethlehem Steele buildings and it was converted into a processing plant for Indigo used for dyes for blue jeans and other denim products. The interior was as inhospitable to human comfort as it gets. Located in South Buffalo, NY where all the old decimated and decrepit forgotten industry lay currently in ruins.

Climbing up to the roof top to take a breather was routine. It was 3 AM and while he was taking a break he saw what he described as a UFO making the most impossible movements across the sky. Zipping one way and turning 90 degrees in an instant and zipping across the sky faster than any earth bound airplane that we know could ever.

He was describing a bright blue/white colored object zipping all over the sky and eventually disappearing in a flash.

This story was told to me in 1988 in Buffalo NY. He has an excitement in his voice described the unbelievable ways that this craft was moving.

Pictures are sourced from the Abandoned America expose on the old Buffalo Color buildings. Story can be seen here at https://www.abandonedamerica.us/buffalo-color-corporation

This is the place that my Father slugged away at everyday- sometimes for double and triple shifts. Coming home his clothes would have the pungent odor of the carcinogenic “blue” as they would call it.

I am not sure what I believe about such things but I know that my Father was a very serious type person that was not into making up stories. Especially of this nature.

My Father passed away last November 2021 and I have been exploring ways to store the memories and it can be cathartic in and of itself to write. When someone close passes, we can have an Albert Camus style existential crisis and sing “Is that all there is” and exploring the depths of the word “WHY?”.

Peggy Lee’s version really sums up that feeling.

Is that all there is to a UFO?

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