TILNEYandRYAN: "Are y'all into alien abduction?"

...asked my friend Hunter, when I mentioned that I was planning a trip to Las Vegas and looking for suggestions of things to do.

It's hard to know how to respond to such a question.

Am I into *being* abducted by aliens? (Not that I remember, although I do have some gaps in my memories of 2nd grade.) Am I into *watching* people be abducted by aliens? (Only if I get to choose the abductee.) Am I into talking at length, perhaps at a theme bar, with people who claim to have been abducted by aliens? (To paraphrase Sarah Palin, "Noooo. I am not one of those people." Luckily, I do not need a passport to get to Vegas, though I'm not sure about the border control policies of the Mothership.)

I stared blankly at Hunter, trying to formulate an answer that would not be offensive, lest *he* was "one of those people." My gotcha-journalism-question-evading skills are sadly underdeveloped, I discovered, as I completely forgot to wink at the (nonexistent) camera and say "You betcha" with an adorable tilt of my head.

But here's the thing: It's not just that I forgot. It's that I actually can't wink. For as long as I've been aware that winking is something that would be valuable to add to my arsenal of skills, I've never been able to do it. Believe me, I've tried. I've even had coworkers attempt to coach me, to no avail. Watching me try to wink, it turns out, is as painful as watching Elaine try to dance on "Seinfeld." When I (try to) wink, people ask me if I'm okay. They ask if there are any medications I'm allergic to, in case I am in the early stages of a seizure and the paramedics need to be called. (Demerol, by the way.)

Anyway, I just stared and stared at Hunter until the silence grew so ponderous that the poor guy probably started to wonder if I was having an abduction flashback.