TOURIST IN THE SKY

NASA apparently tried to talk the Russians out of allowing a visit by the world’s first "space tourist", as he was dubbed. A civilian visitor, they claimed, might distract the crew and jeopardize the mission. Fortunately, there are no Japanese fishing trawlers to run into in space.

NASA, unfortunately, didn’t do the one thing that would have persuaded the Rooskies to drop the idea, namely pay the cash-strapped Russian space program $21 million NOT to take him. So the Russians (quite reasonably, I think) informed NASA that it is, after all, an INTERNATIONAL space station and they’d send up whomever they darn well pleased.

You have to admire this Tito guy. I mean, if I was a 60-year-old with a few million simoleons lying around doing nothing in my bank account, I might choose to blow it on something stupid, like buying my own island or divorcing Nicole Kidman. Dennis, however, chose to spend his cash by living a life-long dream. Instead of lying by a pool somewhere hollering for more umbrella drinks, Tito went to the Russian cosmonaut training base known as Star City in Kazakhstan and went through all the physical tests and training. He even learned Russian. He did all of this all so he’d have the chance to chill out for six days in a tin can that’s smaller than a double-wide trailer, except the environment outside this habitat is a lot more hostile than you’d find in any trailer park. Well, most trailer parks, anyway.

Tito isn’t a complete novice when it comes to space exploration. Before he went for the big bucks, Dennis worked at the elite Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, designing trajectories for the Mariner probes to Mars and Venus.

Tito’s venture has paved the way for a lot of other people with plenty of money and a desire to get up close and personal with the Great Beyond. A company in Arlington, Virginia calling itself Space Adventures helped broker Tito’s deal with the Russians and promises to do the same for anyone else who can come up with the 20 mil. Space Adventures recently acquired another company called Zehgram Space Voyages that was working on a plan to sell people "sub-orbital" flights for a mere $98 thousand, for the space tourist on a budget. A number of rich folks are reportedly queuing up for the slots. Titanic producer James Cameron has vowed to take his camera to the ISS to film a documentary. (If he promises to take Leo DeCaprio and all the copies of that horrible movie with him, I’ll even chip in a few bucks, but only if he promises not to bring them back.). One US company, known as Spacehab, is set to build what is to be known as the "Enterprise" module, which could be used for condominium-like living quarters specially geared for sightseeing stopovers.

Tito, Cameron, and their ilk are the lucky ones. They’ll get to see space before it gets all touristy. Someday, people will be waxing poetic about the days when you could take a space walk without there being a McDonald’s or a Starbuck’s every few hundred kilometers. By the time I get there, I’ll probably have to put up with sitting in the shuttleport bar, waiting out yet another flight delay, next to a group of drunk car salesmen from Schenectady comparing sunburns, complaining loudly about the food, and sexually harassing the waitresses until it’s impossible to find anyone to take my drink order.

Ah, well. Some people have criticized Tito and the Russians for what they see as a stunt. Some deplore the "commercialization" of space. Keep in mind, however, that it wasn’t people who were thirsty for knowledge who finally settled the New World and the American Frontier. Those new vistas were settled by people who were trying to earn a buck. Now, it’s the Russians, of all people, who seem to be figuring out how to actually make money in space.

Here’s to you, Dennis. Enjoy it while you can. And send us a postcard.

COPYRIGHT 2001 BY JERRY D. RHOADES, JR.