Let's Do Launch
This article was originally published in Lonely Planet Florida (2002)
It’s the modern equivalent of watching those first ambitious fish haul themselves up onto dry land, topped off with the explosive power of the world’s most expensive firework. If you ever need a little inspiration, a space shuttle launch will make you appreciate how remarkable human beings really are.
Begin by contacting the Kennedy Space Center (312-867-4636) to find out if there’s a launch during your visit. If you can’t get tickets to KSC facilities, don’t worry. There are plenty of great places to see shuttles soar: Try the Astronaut Hall of Fame, Jetty Park Campground, Cherie Down Park, Rotary Riverfront Park, Space View Park, Cocoa each Pier, Bennet Causeway (Hwy 528) and the Brewer Pkwy bridge in Titusville.
Make hotel reservations early, and plan to stay for a while. The launch I viewed, STS-110, was delayed three times due to mechanical problems and windy weather, a week which culminated with a nail-biting countdown that had technicians reloading software onto space shuttle Atlantis in the final minutes.
It’s worth checking launch status throughout the day (231-867-4636) if you’re, say, in Orlando, but Space Coast news stations cover NASA operations obsessively: Weather broadcasts begin with “There’s a 40 percent chance of a successful launch,” rather than boring us with hurricane warnings. Most area radio stations also have regular updates.
Get to your viewing site early, and bring binoculars and extra beer—it’s an international tailgate party no matter where you end up. Vendors sell ice cream, soda and even mission-specific T-shirts ($10; they make great souvenirs). Tune into 920 AM for up-to-the-minute reports and, five minutes before the big event, the countdown.
At Atlantis’ launch, the anticipation was thicker than solid fuel in a pressurized tank for STS-110. I was parked at the Brewer Pkwy bridge, blocked in by dozens of cars—no one cared, no one was going anywhere. Folks from all over the world were taking turns with my friend Linda’s telescope, examining Atlantis from across the bay, imagining it straining against the launch apparatus, eager to fly. “The wind may be too strong today,” announced one man, his ear to the radio. We had 29 minutes until the launch window opened. Prayers to various deities ensued. “The shuttle’s computers went down,” another woman yelled. The window would close in nine minutes.
But NASA came through with seconds to spare, and the whole Space Coast started changing: “Three, two, one – LIFTOFF!” And there were flames, then clouds of steam, and then a silent ascent into the stratosphere. “Here comes the noise,” a father whispered to his son. Windshields rattled in response to the roar; not one of us covered our ears. And Atlantis was gone.