THINKING ABOUT ORBITING
So astronauts like to get plastered before take-off, eh?
A lot of people wouldn't fly any other way.
Don't those shocked and horrified NASA officials ever fly commercial?
Now, I've never been drunk in my life. Honestly. If I were about to be
blasted into space, however, I expect doing it blotto would beat doing it
sober.
Who, in their right mind (a speculative remark), would really consider it?
Sure, the suits are sort of neat, although lock-rings and real moon boots
sound a little bit uncomfortable. But that's just me. I'm at the elastic
waistband and comfy shoes stage of life.
The food could turn you off unless you're too lazy to chew. Personally, I
don't like pureed anything. About the only squishy stuff I'll eat is mashed
potatoes and ice cream — not together — but not the soft ice cream that comes out of a machine. Being a pet owner, you know. Peanut butter has to
be the crunchy kind.
The lack of privacy and the on- the-screen-all-the-time life would bring out
my barely-contained diva. Ask anyone.
And what to do if you really can't stand any or all of your crew mates? I
have read that potential crew members go through a battery of tests but
there's nothing like 24/7, in a confined space, to really test
compatibility. If you've just returned from camping or cottaging or RVing,
you will know what I mean.
How do you cope with the irritations? Do you keep notes and get even later?
The culture is very `guy'. Very jock. Very locker room. Of course. They're very drunk.
To my mind, it would be perfectly reasonable to place yourself into a
de-sensitised mindspace.
I mean, really — think about it. You're going to be imprisoned in a small
space; strapped into your seat; possibly shot into space if you aren't blown
to bits or incinerated; whipped into orbit at a squillion miles an hour; and hopefully make a successful docking and transfer in space where you will
remain for long periods of time.
Once you're 'up there', you would have lots of opportunity to think about
missing solar shields, computers crashing, losing radio communication with
base, and the possibility of sabotage and/or poor quality equipment due to unrealistic deadlines and egos. No amount of research or note- keeping or
whatever could keep these thoughts at bay for the entire trip.
Then there are the things that haven't happened yet to the American
astronauts, as far as we know; such as a glitch that leaves you literally
lost in space. The Robinsons had each other and they could land on other planets and have adventures. They may have been lost but they weren't
bored.
An added frisson is the inclusion of the paying passenger. Who gets to
handle the enthusiastic amateur?
I can imagine it:
'Don't touch that!'
'OK. Who forgot how to use the personal evacuation system?'
'Sorry, you finished all the tubes of pate de fois the first day, remember? The day you had a case of indigestion?'
'No, you may not steer.'
'And we're not there yet.'
Give the astronauts a break. Being an astronaut would sound like fun until
the day came — and then maybe not so much.
All they have to do is get dressed by someone else and get loaded in. It
hardly matters if they remember. The part they need to know about is all on
the news. They can watch it later.
I say, 'Go for it, astronauts. Party hearty! And I raise a glass myself to
you, for being human.'
Born and raised in a small Ontario town that became a large bedroom community post-war, Pat Beurteaux began her career as a primary school teacher, a career that permitted her to travel to Australia as a `working holidayer' in the mid-60s. At that time any British Commonwealth citizen could travel and work in any other Commonwealth country under certain conditions; a good deal of fun was had by all. You may reach Pat by emailing zenimation (at) sympatico.ca
