As a seasoned RW pilot, I had traversed the skies between Port Arthur, Texas and Cameron, Louisiana countless times. The routine flight path over Sabine Pass was familiar to me, but on that fateful day, my ordinary journey took an extraordinary turn.

It was a crisp evening as I climbed into the cockpit,  ready for another routine flight. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm golden glow across the horizon. Everything seemed perfect for a smooth journey.

I engaged the engines, feeling the familiar vibration beneath my seat as the rotor blades sliced through the air above me. The radio crackled to life, and I established communication KBPT tower,  informing them of my departure from Port Arthur.

Ascending into the sky, I marveled at the picturesque landscape below. The sparkling waters of Sabine Lake stretched out to the east, while the verdant marshlands extended as far as the eye could see to the west. I settled into my flight, following the well-worn route.

However, as I reached the midpoint over Sabine Pass, a strange sensation gripped me. The calm evening air turned unusually chilly, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

That's when I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned my gaze towards the western sky, and my heart skipped a beat. There, hovering silently above the horizon, was an object unlike anything I had ever encountered.

It appeared as a metallic disc, its surface reflecting the fading sunlight. It seemed to defy the laws of physics, suspended effortlessly in the air. The sight was simultaneously captivating and unnerving. My training urged me to maintain focus, but my curiosity was piqued.

As if in response to my presence, the helicopter's instrumentation flickered briefly, causing my grip on the controls to tighten. My eyes darted between the mysterious object and the instrument panel, praying for stability. To my relief, the systems returned to normal, but an unshakeable unease lingered in the pit of my stomach.

I instinctively reached for the radio to alert air traffic control of the anomaly, but to my bewilderment, a series of garbled, otherworldly noises emanated from the speaker. It was as if the signals were being intercepted, distorted beyond recognition. I repeated my distress call, but my message was met with eerie silence.

Meanwhile, the UFO maintained its watchful presence, silently observing my every move. The encounter had transcended the realm of the ordinary, leaving me with a profound sense of vulnerability. It was as if the object possessed an intelligence beyond comprehension, a presence that sought to unnerve rather than harm.

Determined to complete my journey, I steered the helicopter away from the enigmatic craft, its image forever etched in my memory. As I approached Cameron, the unsettling atmosphere lifted, and a sigh of relief escaped my lips. I landed the helicopter safely, thankful to be back on solid ground.

Months passed, and I shared my encounter with trusted colleagues, seeking validation or explanation. Some dismissed it as a trick of the light, a mere optical illusion. Others believed in the existence of extraterrestrial life, suggesting that I had come face-to-face with an otherworldly visitor.

To this day, I cannot fully comprehend the nature of that encounter. It remains a mysterious chapter in my flying career, an eerie tale that I recount with a mixture of fascination and trepidation. Whether it was a chance encounter or a glimpse into the unknown, one thing is certain: the skies over Sabine Pass hold secrets that defy our understanding.

I hardly think it was only a sigh of relief that escaped your lips. I'm thinking either a wicked doobie or bottle of Jack Daniel's had escaped your lips as well. 

To Cajuns credit, I believe he saw something.   If you fly long enough in your career, you'll see too, theres things in life that just don't make any sense.   ( to us )    I stayed quiet also.

Has been posted numerous times over the years. Exactly the same word for word. Copy and paste is easy.

Searched the archives, found several stories about Sabine Pass, but never this one. I also believe it's true. 

Huh?  Offshore flights start in the morning bro.

Also, Offshore flights do just that, they go offshore.....not from one Land base

to another land base.

So you Left Sabine, at night, to land in Cameron?  At night?

Fake news.

With it being 97F right now with a heat index of 115.....

There's never a day in south Louisiana where one who truly worked here would ever describe the air condition as "Crisp"

Soggy balls, or slapped in the face with dirty wet sock would be a more accurate description.....even in winter time.

Never said I was flying offshore. I flew private shuttle flights for Motiva executives. And this was late Decembet. Don't care if you don't believe me, doesnt change that it actually happened. 

Well written and an interesting read.  If you have spent enough time in the air you will see things that defy explanation. So I never question.

The skies over Sabine Pass certainly defy explanation. I can't help but wonder if an outer world presence is interested in our liquid natural gas technology, given that the largest LNG terminal in the world is located in Sabine Pass. Just a thought. 

space travelers probably haven't figured out natural gas

They mastered time travel, interdimensional travel, or lightspeed.....but methane confounds them......right.

writing skill like that why are you playing around in O&G, unless like most of us flying is the preferred employment?