A perfect solar storm
The first time I ever ogled the phantasmagoria that is the northern lights was during my junior year at Middlebury College. Late one evening, I was trudging back to my dorm from the library when I realized I was not alone. Instead of traversing an empty corner of campus on a frigid, starry night, I found myself surrounded by people. Classmates were scattered in bunches, a few here, a few there, dozens of them, every head angled toward the sky. I might have, but that paradigm-shifting film of alien visitation would not be released until the following year.
