I Have A Dream That's Out Of This World
Martin Luther King Jr had a dream, though if you read his speech you'll see he actually had about six. I have a dream too. No, really.
Last year, Richard Branson announced the first ever plans to launch space passenger flights. For only about $200,000, passengers get a week of training, 1 1/2 hours up, 3 minutes of weightlessness (or throwing-up time as it may be for many people) and 1 1/2 hours down. And I'm there.
Well OK, maybe I'm not there straight away. For a start I need the money, and right now there is the small matter of the mortgage. But in 13 years, or on my 50th birthday, the mortgage should be paid off, the will updated, the life insurance renewed and the superannuation contributions maxed. And 200 grand won't be worth nearly as much then - hopefully.
I've always wanted to be an astronaut. But being:
a) a lazy bastard;
b) not American;
c) physically adverse to hard training;
d) not in possession of a physics or aeronautics degree; and
e) not wanted to join the air force (the small matter of killing people for a living)
it wasn't going to happen. Until Mr Branson came to my rescue.
I had dreamed of hitting golf balls on the moon (alas I hate golf, kicking a rugby ball would be more to my liking but with no atmosphere the ball would expode or implode or something that someone with a physics degree would know. In any case I'm a shit kicker). So now Virgin spaceflights offer me the opportunity to finally kill myself in a suitably reckless manner. Unfortunately, my suspicion is that I'll be beaten to the punch, so to speak. One mid-air explosion, failed engine or screams in space that no one will hear, and the whole operation could go belly up.
Which is a shame. Risk is a central component of my character. It's why I eat at Asian street stalls and drink the water, support the Waratahs, and got married. People like myself who live on life's edge need an outlet for our personalities. If not, we'd be like that rugby ball on the moon and just explode. Or is it implode? Whatever.
1 comment:
My man, you will almost certainly not go into space on or before your 50th birthday. And here's why:
1. Richard Branson's space tourism company, 'Virgin Galactic' is an entity that barely exists. It has 9 employees, not a single flight under its belt, and not even a single fully constructed ship.
2. Even supposing 'Virgin Galactic' to become a viable operating entity, there are almost certainly going to be technical and scheduling delays, minor accidents, and cost blowouts. After all, the NASA shuttle flights have hardly become more frequent and cheaper since inception. As 8 people can travel on one of these 'spaceships', and there are supposedly 20,000 people willing to pay, you face a mighty long queue. Better cough up the deposit this week matey.
3. Even were the eventual cost to be $200,000 dollars, it is no small sum of money, no matter how buoyant the Sydney housing market becomes. There are certain to be other demands upon those funds (private schooling, anyone?), and a solemn assessment of the value of this project will see the posing of some difficult questions. (Is three minutes of weightlessness worth 200 grand?).
But hey, I'd love to see you succeed. Please, prove me wrong. I dare you.
Post a Comment