Picture it: Charleston, South Carolina, early 1980s. A young married couple leaves the University of Clemson for the University of Arkansas, nestled in a tiny town called Fayetteville. The husband is finishing up his masters degree in chemical engineering, while the wife is a Ph.D. doing research and teaching courses in organic chemistry. While studying/working in Fayetteville, they welcome their firstborn, a daughter. The little family spends another year in Arkansas before the husband lands a job in Texas, and the family moves there... then eventually to Michigan... then back to Texas... then finally to Pennsylvania, for keeps.
That married couple are my parents, and the daughter is me. I spent the first year of my life in Arkansas, on and off the university campus. I don't remember it, and I've never been back since. Every time I watch the Boggy Creek II episode, it's like a window of insight into the earliest part of my life. Hey, my parents might have watched football at that stadium! They might've brought me along! (I did have a pair of Razorback booties, so I was doing my part.) We might've run into one or more of the goobers starring in this film!
Then, the terrifying part: had my father not moved us all over the country while I was a little girl, might I have grown up in Arkansas and become just like these characters? Might I have been lured to the U of A and the venerable Boggy Creek Studies program? Might I have spoken in a drawl, found impossibly hairy beast-men "sexy," and gotten in cat-fights with other women just because we happened to be in each other's general vicinity?
I tell you, it chills me to think of these things. If Q or another being of comparable omnipotence ever whisks me off to show me what could have been, this is the alternate reality I desperately hope not to learn about. Seriously, I'd rather see the Nausicaan who stabs me through the heart. Thanks.