into the glass doors of the Imax Theatre, bounces off and slumps to the sidewalk, broken and unconscious. Considering the speed of the action the camerawoman manages to capture it surprisingly well.
The camera phone then whips back to the Prius as Severson exits the vehicle to a round of applause. Judd had invited Severson to the movie but, as usual, he was running late. Severson humbly accepts the crowd’s applause, turns to Judd, who has found his feet, and says with a wry grin: ‘Sorry I’m late. Parking was a bitch.’
Sorry I’m late. Parking was a bitch. It became the catchcry of summer. The clip had over one hundred and seventy million views on YouTube and, it seemed, just as many memes. Judd loved those seven little words because, and thank God for this, it drew attention away from pretty much everything else in the video, most importantly Judd’s inaction.
That didn’t stop Judd’s embarrassment, though. The fact is, when he needed to rise to the occasion he hid behind a Buick. And even though he’s the only one who knows the truth he still feels the failure acutely. That’s why he doesn’t want to be congratulated by well-wishers, and why the constant hero talk sticks in his craw. It’s like he’s pretending to be something he isn’t. And succeeding in the Orion simulator didn’t make up for it because, as difficult as that was, it was still just a very expensive video game and no one’s life was at stake.
So why the hell does he watch the video so often? Because he wants to remember that he needs to be better if there’s ever a next time, and nothing motivates him more than being embarrassed, and this video is the most embarrassing thing he’s ever been a part of. It’s walking-naked-down-a-city-street-in-the-middle-of-peak-hour embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing he’s not mentioned it to anyone and never plans to.
Judd reclines his seat and picks up the iPad. He better get cracking with this screenplay. As soon as he lands he’ll be busy. There’s an interview with Corey at CNN, then lunch with the studio head and his posse at Spago, then they head over to the official press announcement at the Twentieth Century Fox lot, where he’ll link up with Rhonda and Severson, who are due in later this afternoon.
He glances at his PloProf to check the time. They should be taking off any time now.
~ * ~
6
The Southwest Boeing 737-400 sits on the tarmac of the General Mitchell International Airport in overcast Wisconsin, engines turning.
Rhonda Jacolby climbs the stairs to the front door. She always wonders what it would be like to pilot a commercial jet. This 737 is roughly the same size as a shuttle, but she knows that’s where the similarities end. They have nothing in common except wings and a tail.
Rhonda has spent the last two days in Wisconsin, vetting a prospective contractor who reached the final round to build the Orion’s solid rocket launch system. As the astronaut member of the selection committee her job is to interview the company’s management, meet the workforce, inspect the facilities then write a report. She’s glad it’s over. The last forty-eight hours have been arduous, to say the least, for the blonde thirty-eight-year-old with the ski-jump nose. She’s looking forward to getting to LA, attending the movie’s announcement then spending a couple of days decompressing at the Beverly Wilshire with Judd. She wants to clear her head before getting back to JSC and tackling that Orion simulator. She hasn’t mastered the damn thing yet and it’s starting to piss her off. She knows, as does everyone else involved with preparations for the Mars missions, that she is the frontrunner for FOM, but if she doesn’t get a handle on the sim soon that opportunity will slip away.
For the life of her, she doesn’t understand why she can’t crack it. In the past she has excelled at this type of training. The
The camera phone then whips back to the Prius as Severson exits the vehicle to a round of applause. Judd had invited Severson to the movie but, as usual, he was running late. Severson humbly accepts the crowd’s applause, turns to Judd, who has found his feet, and says with a wry grin: ‘Sorry I’m late. Parking was a bitch.’
Sorry I’m late. Parking was a bitch. It became the catchcry of summer. The clip had over one hundred and seventy million views on YouTube and, it seemed, just as many memes. Judd loved those seven little words because, and thank God for this, it drew attention away from pretty much everything else in the video, most importantly Judd’s inaction.
That didn’t stop Judd’s embarrassment, though. The fact is, when he needed to rise to the occasion he hid behind a Buick. And even though he’s the only one who knows the truth he still feels the failure acutely. That’s why he doesn’t want to be congratulated by well-wishers, and why the constant hero talk sticks in his craw. It’s like he’s pretending to be something he isn’t. And succeeding in the Orion simulator didn’t make up for it because, as difficult as that was, it was still just a very expensive video game and no one’s life was at stake.
So why the hell does he watch the video so often? Because he wants to remember that he needs to be better if there’s ever a next time, and nothing motivates him more than being embarrassed, and this video is the most embarrassing thing he’s ever been a part of. It’s walking-naked-down-a-city-street-in-the-middle-of-peak-hour embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing he’s not mentioned it to anyone and never plans to.
Judd reclines his seat and picks up the iPad. He better get cracking with this screenplay. As soon as he lands he’ll be busy. There’s an interview with Corey at CNN, then lunch with the studio head and his posse at Spago, then they head over to the official press announcement at the Twentieth Century Fox lot, where he’ll link up with Rhonda and Severson, who are due in later this afternoon.
He glances at his PloProf to check the time. They should be taking off any time now.
~ * ~
6
The Southwest Boeing 737-400 sits on the tarmac of the General Mitchell International Airport in overcast Wisconsin, engines turning.
Rhonda Jacolby climbs the stairs to the front door. She always wonders what it would be like to pilot a commercial jet. This 737 is roughly the same size as a shuttle, but she knows that’s where the similarities end. They have nothing in common except wings and a tail.
Rhonda has spent the last two days in Wisconsin, vetting a prospective contractor who reached the final round to build the Orion’s solid rocket launch system. As the astronaut member of the selection committee her job is to interview the company’s management, meet the workforce, inspect the facilities then write a report. She’s glad it’s over. The last forty-eight hours have been arduous, to say the least, for the blonde thirty-eight-year-old with the ski-jump nose. She’s looking forward to getting to LA, attending the movie’s announcement then spending a couple of days decompressing at the Beverly Wilshire with Judd. She wants to clear her head before getting back to JSC and tackling that Orion simulator. She hasn’t mastered the damn thing yet and it’s starting to piss her off. She knows, as does everyone else involved with preparations for the Mars missions, that she is the frontrunner for FOM, but if she doesn’t get a handle on the sim soon that opportunity will slip away.
For the life of her, she doesn’t understand why she can’t crack it. In the past she has excelled at this type of training. The
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