The summer I was seven, Mom and Dad spoke those five words every kid wants to hear, “We’re going to Disney World!” My only prior experience with Disney was the park in Anaheim, CA when I was three. I have vague memories of looking sideways at the costumed characters, thinking they looked a little sus, and absolutely refusing to have my picture taken with Mickey.
Being confident I’d outgrown my muscophobia, Mom and Dad planned a sweeping, all-encompassing tour that summer. We wound up hitting not only Disney World, but SeaWorld, Crystal Springs, and Circus World. Because they were inexpensive and easy to pack, I scored souvenir pennants from all these parks. Folks who’ve hung out at my house back in the day know these continued to decorate the walls of my room all through high school (zero game – but that’s a different post).
However, for a budding nerd, I think the pinnacle of parks we hit that summer was Cape Canaveral. I’d always had a deep interest in space and space exploration, and now here I was at ground zero strolling around wide-eyed and jaw dropped at everything. Seeing the immense scale of the Saturn V up close and personal was mind blowing. Guys walking around in stark white, gold-visored spacesuits gave me more goosebumps than dudes decked out in Goofy or Mickey costumes. There’s a picture of me seated next to one of these guys on a bench. I was keeping my distance from him not out of fear but respectful awe.
Of all the kitsch I purchased on that trip, my absolute favorite came from the Space Center. It was a Crookes Radiometer, four vanes of solar sensitive pads suspended on a needle inside a bulb under nearly full vacuum. When hit by a strong enough light the vane would rotate.
That gizmo sat in every bedroom window of mine until it was eventually broken by a stiff breeze hitting it from an open window. This is also a shameless hint for Mrs. Claus because I don't think Dude reads my lists after I sent him on an international detour back in '76.
An interesting bookend to this childhood story of rockets and astronauts happened earlier this summer. Andrea had a conference in Jacksonville, but we spent the days before her presentation on Merritt Island where we were guests of Kevin and Ann McGhee, friends of ours living the dream on the east central coast of Florida.
The McGhees were gracious impromptu B&B hosts with full Tex-Mex dinner spreads and breakfast cooked to order. They were also very capable tour guides. Our brief time with them included multiple gator and bird watching excursions, kayaking with manatees and dolphins, and a wide-ranging safari in search of a particularly elusive bobcat.
Of note on their program of events was viewing a Cape Canaveral rocket launch. Our hosts were absolutely dialed in with multiple apps tracking the weather and launch status. Sifting through the multiple data streams available to them, they knew the time and specific launch pad for lift off. Based on that intel, they deduced the best vantage point was a specific restaurant across the bay.
We arrived at the eatery, ordered our dinner, and waited. When the countdown broke the two-minute barrier, all patrons in the restaurant stood in a seemingly choreographed move and made their way to the restaurant’s bay side deck.
You saw the flash of ignition before you heard it. And when you heard it, it would be more accurate to say you felt it – a deep reverberation in your bones that caused me to involuntarily grab the railing.
Our B&B hosts continued to relay information like seasoned broadcasters, correctly describing the planned flight path and giving a surprisingly accurate countdown to the resulting sonic boom coming off the rocket.
Seven-year-old me standing in the shadow of the Saturn V could not in his wildest dreams foresee forty-seven years later he’d be watching an actual Cape Canaveral rocket launch while sipping a first-rate cabernet. Standing there mesmerized, I squinted and forced my eyes to follow the rocket until it faded from sight. The whole experience was superlative convergence of luck, the weather, the engineers sitting in mission control, and the first-rate situational knowledge of our hosts. 10/10 – I would highly recommend.
No comments:
Post a Comment