#NASAsocial: Unexpected Revelations on America’s Space Coast 1

Sometimes it’s been tucked away under this old blue collar of mine. I don’t have the academic background or career that one might associate with the typical enthusiast. Other times, I’m so inspired, I’m waving it like a giant banner in the wind. But it’s always there….”it” being the fascination with spaceflight and space exploration that’s lived within me for as long as I can remember. The image of engineering marvels racing through a blue sky fast enough to escape the unforgiving, unrelenting force of gravity, captivates my mind in a way little else has for most of my life. Imagine my excitement and surprise when I learned I’d been selected to participate in a #NASAsocial event. For those unaware, a #NASAsocial event is a gathering of selected influencers that are typically given a “behind the scenes” look into a NASA facility and the work happening there. The level of access granted to the participants is much greater than the general public might ever receive and the hope is that those selected would take NASA’s story and work, and communicate it to their audience on whatever their particular platform may be.

Two weeks prior, on a Tuesday, I’d sat in my office staring at the blank application on my computer monitor. I was trying to figure out how to best pitch myself as a qualified candidate for selection to take part in an upcoming #NASAsocial at Kennedy Space Center (KSC). I’m not an educator by profession. I don’t work in the aerospace industry. I’m not a student in any related area. I’ve worked in commercial power production for a dozen years. I gather and analyze data, then record and report the results for environmental compliance. I certainly work in a “science field”, but I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a scientist. Despite all this, I did have access to an audience with my association with Florida is Sinking. The podcast’s demographic is based primarily in central Florida. Though not space-centric in content, the large majority of rockets launched in the United States of America are done so, practically from our listeners’ backyards. I wondered how many of them took advantage of our proximity to such an incredible place. I decided communicating my experience to them, via this blog and maybe an episode of the show, in hopes that they’d seek it out for themselves, would be my primary pitch in applying. I filled in the blanks, clicked send, and waited. Two weeks later I’d been selected, and I was elated.

When I learned I’d be attending the #NASAsocial surrounding the first launch of the Boeing Starliner crew capsule, I was especially excited. Seeing a “first” when it comes to launches is an activity in which I’ve had some experience. A few years ago, I camped with my family on the Banana River and watched the first launch of NASA’s Orion capsule atop a United Launch Alliance (ULA) Delta IV Heavy rocket. More recently, I’d paid a premium to sit as close as possible to launchpad 39A to watch the SpaceX Falcon Heavy rocket launch for the first time. Watching Starliner launch on a ULA Atlas V rocket would be another great milestone to witness in the commercialization of our space program and this time, it would be much more up close and personal!

12/18 1800

I drove the hundred miles or so toward Cape Canaveral on Wednesday after work. The participants were to report to a parking lot on the causeway the following morning at 8:00 a.m. for registration, before beginning a tour of KSC. I found a small motel that was only a four-minute drive from that parking lot. It was certainly nothing special, but I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. If I woke up in the morning and my car didn’t start and an Uber was unavailable, at least I could put one foot in front of the other and walk to the meeting point. After checking into my room, I drove over to that parking lot to get my bearings. I wanted to make sure that I knew where I was going the following morning. Once I located the lot, I continued driving over the causeway towards KSC. The geographical isolation of the space center was perfectly evident in the resulting absence of light pollution and the blackness of the open expanse before me. There was, however, one beacon on the otherwise darkened coastline. Launch Complex 41 and the rocket I was to see launched less than 36 hours from that moment, along with the low cloud ceiling above, were illuminated brilliantly by spotlights and so contrasted to their surroundings, it was a fantastic sight to take in. I was eager for this event to begin.

12/19 0630

I had readied my things the night before. My clothes were laid out neatly alongside my shoes. My two forms of government issued identification were accounted for. My GoPro was charged with an extra battery available. I made sure to have a portable charger in case I needed to charge my phone on the go. Everything was in perfect order. Why I decided to wake up an hour and a half early when I was so prepared and such a short distance away from the rendezvous, I have no idea. After an anxious hour of spare time, I left the motel and made the uneventful drive to registration.

When I pulled in the parking lot, there were plenty of attendees already there. A short line was forming at the registration table. It was brisk morning by Florida’s standards. The wind was gusting across the Indian River as I made my way over to stand at the end of the line. Prior to the event, a private Facebook group had been set up for attendees to communicate with one another and share information. I recognized some of the faces from that group. I’d briefly glanced at whatever information their profile provided and knew a little background in terms of what their interest in a #NASAsocial might be. There were some real intellectuals. Some were accomplished tech professionals. There were CEOs and aerospace industry communicators. There were STEM educators and engineering students. Also, there was me. A serious case of imposter syndrome was befalling me, but I just stood quietly in line, intent on enjoying the opportunity despite the self-doubt and questioning whether I deserved to be there. When it was my turn at the table, I noticed my name on the list. Above it, another person was listed with the same last name as me. “What are the odds?”, I thought. After verifying my identification, I was issued my credentials and a swag bag put together by the #NASAsocial team and Boeing. I could tell the bag was loaded down with all sorts of great stuff but instead of looking at it right away, I took it straight to my vehicle and saved the fun of opening it for later.

Making my way back towards the registration area, I could see that it was time to load the bus. I chose a window seat near the back. The rest of the seats were filled rather quickly and soon there was gentleman asking if the vacant seat beside me was taken. “Have a seat!” I told him. He reached out his hand and introduced himself, “Chuck Fields.” Coincidentally, my bus mate was the guy who shared the same last name as myself and the ensuing conversation came easily. He was a #NASAsocial veteran, having attended several. He’s also a podcaster, so there was some common ground to stand on. More importantly, he just gave off a “good guy” vibe and it made things comfortable. Once we were all loaded and settled, the bus made its way a few miles east on the causeway to the security checkpoint at the KSC entrance. We were all instructed to leave our bags on the bus and depart it while they brought a K-9 on board to check our bags. The dog and it’s handler worked efficiently and soon after, we were back on the bus and headed to our first official stop of the day.

The bus rolled to a stop in front of a small training facility located behind the old KSC Headquarters building. The sound of compressed air releasing from the braking system signaled our time to disembark. If that wasn’t notice enough, our guide or wrangler for the day, NASA shuttle program veteran Greg Hale growled, “Get off my bus!” He also referred to himself as “Dad”. The act was more charming than off-putting, and Greg’s wealth of knowledge was invaluable throughout the day. We made our way towards a small octagonal auditorium in the back of the building and settled in for a mission briefing from several NASA and Boeing representatives. The portion of this program that really stood out to me was a tandem presentation given by two Boeing employees: Design Engineer Melanie Weber, and Chief of Launch and Recovery Operations, Louis Atchison.

When individuals are passionate about their work, that passion shines through in their excitement to share what they’ve been working on. Ms. Weber previously worked on the structural design of the F-22 Raptor and later supported the ISS with on-orbit configurations and installations. Her role in the design of the Boeing Starliner capsule was focused primarily on its interior. She communicated in such a way that she made the challenging design process of the capsule’s one-size-fits-all seating sound exciting. If that wasn’t enough on her plate already, Ms. Weber is also the launch pad lead on the Blue Team for Boeing and will be one of the last faces astronauts see in the white room prior to hatch closure on launch day. The impression she left on me was clear. She works hard, doesn’t run from a challenge, and genuinely enjoys what she does for a living. Mr. Atchison spoke briefly about the path to his current position and his role from conducting the launch to recovery operations upon landing. He spoke about growing up in Florida. Watching shuttle launches and the inspiration those experiences instilled in him, pushed him towards a career in aerospace and fueled his aspirations of one day hopefully being selected as an astronaut himself. I hope for him that wish comes true. When those two finished speaking, it was time to load Greg’s bus again and head out to our second stop of the day. Before we left the building, Boeing gave us all Starliner t-shirts and while I’m sure there is a designated budget for such things and it wasn’t a big deal for them, all of the participants were grateful.

Back on board the bus, if the buzz about the day ahead of us was in full throttle before, we were red-lining now. There’s a palpable anticipation that comes with the knowledge that you’ll soon be walking in areas where some of mankind’s greatest achievements began. Chuck and I discussed our family lives and interests on the short ride to the next stop, LC-39 Observation Gantry. As we stepped off the bus, we were greeted by an unexpected sight: Boeing’s CST-100 Starliner Crew Transport vehicle. The Airstream Astrovan II is a sequel to the original vehicle that carried Apollo era astronauts from the Operations and Checkout Building to the launchpad. We were all gawking at the vehicle’s exterior when they took us inside the adjacent building. Boeing had transformed the interior into a museum-like experience highlighting their achievements and partnerships with NASA since the beginning of the space program. The area would be host to VIPs prior to launch and we were getting a preview. One of the more notable areas that stood out to me was a Starliner capsule cockpit simulation with all the switches and screens one might imagine on the interior of a spacecraft. Some of my fellow #NASAsocial participants took it for a spin but I was content to peer awkwardly over their shoulders. Around the corner they had an Oculus VR rig set up where you could perform a flyby of the International Space Station and get a genuine sense of the size and scale, or so I was told. Again, I was content watching other folks take part. When we were ushered out of the area, back outside, we all got in line to take a tour of the inside of the Astrovan II. The back of the van was appointed with six incredibly comfortable plush seats, upholstered in fine leather. The Airstream representative shared with us that the seats were custom-made somewhere in Ohio and he told us a few other facts regarding the design, but if I’m honest, I sort of zoned out. I was contemplating the idea that in the future, astronauts would be sitting in these very seats before loading onto their crew capsule and being hurled into space atop a fiery rocket. The whole idea of it seemed surreal. Before long, we were on that bus again. Up to this point, I’d been trying to take photos, immediately upload them to various social media accounts, and share everything in real time. I concluded that this method would be detrimental to me fully experiencing the moment and I decided to change course. For the rest of the day, I’d take an abundance of photos, make necessary notes, and then share the content over the following days. I believe that decision was a smart one for a first timer like myself. Chuck shared with me that he’d experienced something similar at his first #NASAsocial, lugging all his podcast gear around with him. Deciding to be more present in the moment allowed for a better, more engaging experience.

Lunchtime. Earlier in the day, we were told we’d be having lunch in the KSC cafeteria. When we arrived, it was directly across the street from the mammoth Vehicle Assembly Building. It was hard not to stop and stare at the building as we made our way into the cafeteria, but we all knew we’d be getting a much better view of that facility later. Once inside, everything was loud and hectic as cafeterias tend to be at the lunch hour. They had boxed lunches and several tables reserved for our group. As we sat down, four or five of us introduced ourselves, sort of summed up what we do, how we ended up at this event, etc. While this conversation was happening, I looked around the room and suddenly had a small revelation that had big implications on my mindset for the rest of the day. On all sides of me, across many tables, were several hundred people enjoying their lunch. That was the obvious. What I noticed, however, were the engineers sitting next to the laborers. Electricians shared tables with executive types. Scientists sat across from truck drivers. Those that had brilliant minds were breaking bread with those that had strong backs and calloused hands. What I was seeing was the perfect representation of the wide spectrum of individuals required to make a facility like Kennedy Space Center and, on a larger scale, our country’s space program overall, operate efficiently. No one person was better than the next. No person deserved to be there more than the other. The work performed by NASA and it’s commercial partners is entrusted to some brilliant minds and talents, but the pride and enthusiasm for the work they are doing…..well that’s for everyone. The imposter syndrome plaguing me earlier in the day now seemed petty. There is decidedly no required qualification for being a space/NASA enthusiast. Space exploration is a rallying point for people of every color, creed, or background.

After lunch, en route to our next stop, the bus drove slowly past Launch Pad 39A; currently on lease to SpaceX. This was my first good look at the pad, in close proximity, since SpaceX assumed control. One glaring component that immediately drew my eyes was the crew access arm. A brilliant white in color and sleek in design, it looked like a set piece from a science fiction film. It’s a literal bridge to the spacecraft and a figurative bridge to the future. I thought to myself, “Musk was never one to forgo aesthetics in favor of function alone.” The crew access arm is a shining example of that sensibility.

We continued south along the oceanfront, transitioning from Kennedy Space Center property to the adjacent Cape Canaveral Airforce Station and its many launch complexes. This is where we managed our first glimpse at our Atlas V rocket. I say “our’ because it’s the one we were all excited to see launch the following morning. Even from a distance, dormant on the pad, the rocket looked powerful. Starliner sat perched on top; ready for her debut. We were only seeing it in passing then, but the group had a scheduled appointment to visit the launch pad at 2:00 p.m. I was certain Greg Hale would make sure we kept that appointment.

ASOC. That’s what the letters on the side of the building read when we pulled in the parking lot. In an industry where acronyms are the standard, this facility’s name was no exception. The ASOC, or Atlas V Spaceflight Operations Center, came with a certain rule that we hadn’t experienced so far on the tour. We could bring our cameras and phones with us, but we were only allowed to take photos when the powers that be gave us permission. There were proprietary technologies in this building that we were allowed to see, but not photograph. Our group was ushered into a newly remodeled lobby. ULA’s achievements were proudly displayed on the wall and rightfully so. The long list of successful launches, one after the next, served as quite the testament to their reliability as an organization. A ULA spokesman met us there in the lobby to give us a tour of the building. He gave us a little background on ULA and explained what takes place at the ASOC. After the short overview, we followed him up a stairwell and found ourselves in a boardroom gallery overlooking the launch control center, primarily void of people for the time being.  This was fascinating view. Looking through the windows into the large room below, we could see multiple rows of consoles and screens to monitor every facet of launch operations. There was a massive screen on the wall displaying camera views of every possible angle of the Atlas V and Starliner on the pad. I couldn’t help but think that less than 24 hours from that moment, the relatively empty room below me would become overrun with a frenzy of activity, all orchestrated by the gentleman we’d met earlier in the morning, Mr. Atchison. We were given permission to take all the photo and video footage we wanted in this room. There would be plenty of live shots of the Launch Control Center on the televised coverage the following morning so there was clearly nothing to hide there. From the gallery, we made our way back downstairs and into a hallway. We had moment to glance at a cross section of an Atlas V rocket hull’s interior. It had a distinctive isogrid structure that gives the rocket more strength and stability. A detail that got my attention was that its construction begins as one large, much thicker, piece of aluminum that is machined precisely to carve away at the metal and give it the honeycomb-like appearance we were seeing. Before moving on to the next area of the tour, we were told, from that point on, we were not allowed to take anymore photographs. When we walked through a set of doors, we found ourselves in a large industrial warehouse space. There were shipment crates and raw materials everywhere. Painted lines indicated safe walkways. It was very similar to any industrial warehouse, save a few large details. Those details were, in fact, 106 ft large. Two Atlas V first stage, Common Core Booster rockets were lying horizontally in a receiving and storage area just inside some large roll up doors. If that wasn’t mind-blowing enough, two Centaur upper stages, companions to the larger first stage boosters, were being stored in an adjacent area. It was the first time in my life I’d been within that close of proximity to actual rockets that would propel spacecraft beyond our atmosphere.

Our guide explained that once the rockets are built at a facility in Alabama, if they’re being launched from Cape Canaveral, they are shipped to the ASOC where they are stored and have some final checkouts before vertical assembly. They had two mockup rocket sections built for their engineers to “play with” and we got the opportunity for of an up-close look at those. Before leaving the ASOC, they gathered us near the end of the rockets and took an official group photo. While it would have been fun to take our own photos in there, it was nice to have one to remember the experience. “Dad” hurried us back on the bus and explained, in his own gruff demeanor, that we’d gotten slightly behind on our schedule and we’d need to hurry to make up time if we were to make our 2:00 p.m. appointment with Starliner on the pad.

In 1963, NASA began construction on a building that would become iconic and synonymous with our country’s space program. The Vehicle Assembly Building (VAB), reaching 525 ft into the Florida sky, was built for vertical assembly of the Apollo program’s Saturn V Rockets and then later used for assembly of the Space Shuttle stacks throughout the program’s lifespan.

I remember the first time I saw the building as kid. My family was vacationing in Florida and we were on a bus tour at KSC. We didn’t actually stop but as the tour bus rolled past the VAB, I remember looking out that window in absolute awe of its size. I knew right then that I wanted to go inside that giant building. On an afternoon in December, thirty years later, I was given that opportunity. When we pulled into the parking lot, Greg stressed that we would only have about fifteen minutes inside because of our condensed schedule. Stepping off the bus and looking up the side of the building, the scale of it didn’t even seem real. Everyone had their cameras out. The door we entered was located in the low bay area. The term low bay, in this instance, is sort of misleading. When we walked inside, the ceiling stretched over 200 ft directly above our heads. Every neck, including mine, craned upwards. The cavernous space inside was unlike any structure I’d ever encountered.

It felt like you could fly a plane in there. Walking down the transfer aisle, the massive aisle running the length of the building’s center, felt like walking into history itself. Steel beams spread upwards, on either side of the aisle, supporting the service levels above. Moving from the low-bay into the high bay area, the ceiling soared another 300 ft. in height. It’s hard to put into words what that looks like. The high bay was once filled with the largest rockets mankind has ever built and that, to me, is incredible. “Dad” had assembled a small audience as he regaled them with the building’s history and stories, but some of us were just wandering, spinning in circles, our gaze forever upward, taking it all in. As cheesy as it sounds, the experience was almost spiritual. The grandeur of that immense space is undeniable and its effect on those given the opportunity to cross its thresholds for the first time was written on their faces. As soon as we’d come to terms with fact that we were standing in this great place, it was time to leave. As we walked out of the building, I took one last look around, grateful for the day and the opportunity to see this.

Back on the bus, everyone was all oohs and ahhs about what we’d just seen. The excitement carried us on the ride all the way back to Launch Complex 41. I assumed that our bus would park well away from the Atlas V and Starliner, and let us out to take some photos, etc. To my surprise, we drove closer and closer, eventually making the turn to drive up to the pad itself. We pulled right up to the security fence and were told we could get off the bus. As we unloaded, they opened the gate and gave us a completely unobstructed view.

We weren’t allowed to move beyond where the gate would have been, but still this was much closer than I anticipated we’d ever get to a rocket that was scheduled to launch the next morning. A few hundred feet away, Starliner looked ready for action. Everyone had their cameras out filming and taking photos. Another vehicle pulled up behind the bus and everyone glanced back. If there’s something a space enthusiast picks up on immediately, it’s a blue flight suit or blue jacket. Seeing one of those immediately triggers the brain to think astronaut. Getting out of that second vehicle was none other than former astronaut and KSC director himself, Col. Bob Cabana, followed by astronaut Butch Wilmore, and NASA Deputy Administrator Jim Morhard. Everyone was in shock. None of us knew they’d be visiting us at the pad.

Deputy Administrator Morhard spoke for a couple of minutes about leveraging the commercial sector for continued space exploration and Bob Cabana talked about the importance of how NASA treats its employees, its partners, and members of the media. He charged everyone there with the task of taking the story of what NASA is trying to accomplish and sharing it with our audiences. I’ll tell you this right now, when an astronaut’s talking, I’m hanging on every word. When someone of Col. Bob’s experience is talking, everyone within earshot is listening. After they spoke for a few minutes, they were talking with people individually, shaking hands, taking photos and so on. Another vehicle pulled up behind the bus. A small security detail exited followed by another gentleman. When we got a clear view of who it was, again, we were all shocked. NASA Administrator Jim Bridenstine had taken time out of what I’m sure was an insanely busy day, given the importance of this launch, and came to meet with us at the pad. He spoke with us about the technological advances that have been made as a direct result of NASA research in space, on the ISS, and otherwise. Not that it’s relevant, but from my perspective, he seemed like a well-informed official who genuinely cared the organization he’s leading. After he spoke, he answered any questions we may have, and we all gathered for a selfie for his twitter.

#NASASocial took an official photo of us with our visitors as well. Shortly after, it was time to move on. We said our goodbyes to the administrators and the astronauts and expressed our gratitude for their time. I overheard one of the #NASASocial representatives mention that at our next stop would be at Boeing’s Commercial Crew and Cargo Processing Facility (C3PF). We were going to get a first-hand look at where Boeing was building and assembling it’s spacecraft, the Starliner capsules.

Arriving at the C3PF, we were greeted by an enormous, photorealistic mural depicting Starliner in orbit, painted across one entire side of the building. The C3PF is located in what used to be called the Orbital Processing Facility (OPF). There were large bay doors, wide enough to accommodate the shuttle’s wingspan, with a notch at the top for the tail fin. After every successful mission, the shuttles were completely overhauled at this facility. When Boeing leased the space, after the completion of the shuttle program, they essentially gutted the building to make way for their own operations. They do continue to utilize the wide bay doors and the original notch for the orbiter tail fin is still there.  When we gathered inside the lobby of the building, we were greeted by Boeing communicators, issued safety glasses, and split into two groups for a tour of the factory itself. When we entered a set of double doors onto the white factory floor, there was a clean room to our immediate left, behind a tall plexiglass wall. Inside, technicians clad in protective clothing were busy working on the capsule that will be used for the upcoming, first crewed test flight. The exterior panels of the spacecraft were currently removed, exposing what seemed like miles of wiring and tubing for the many systems required to fly such a machine. Directly ahead of us was the capsule used for the pad abort test a few months prior. A new service module and an ablative heat shield were also in view. Various instrument panels and components were stored around different areas of the floor. It looked exactly like a workshop one might encounter, if that workshop was designing vehicles to send people beyond our atmosphere! Honestly it was a surreal experience, much like the rest of the day had been. Our guides explained an overall view of the spacecrafts and we were permitted to take as many photos as we liked, provide we didn’t zoom in on any specific panels or components. I think most people complied with that because we were just happy to be given the access to see it. When I was sure that our time in that room was over, our guides asked us if we wanted to go in the clean room we’d seen. They didn’t have to ask twice. I assumed we’d have to put on some sort of covering, but we just quietly went in the room and maintained a certain distance from the spacecraft. It was overhead somewhat, as the scientists and technicians working on the capsule were doing so from scaffolding that had been erected around it. It was fantastic to get an up-close view of the craft that could potentially be the first one to launch people from our country since the space shuttle Atlantis had back in 2011. Completing our time in the clean room, our tour of the C3PF was over and we headed back outside. #NASAsocial wanted to take a group photo in front of the Starliner mural on the building. I thought, there’s no way they’ll be able to get all 40 something of us and this giant building in frame. I thought wrong. They took a great photo and shared it with us all.

We boarded the bus and headed to our last stop of the day; The Neil Armstrong Operations and Checkout Building. I think anyone that’s even remotely aware of our country’s space program knows this building, whether they realize it or not. That famous camera shot that shows astronauts walking out of the double white doors and down the ramp before boarding the Astrovan and heading towards the launchpad; that’s at the building I’m referring to. Our plan was to go back to those doors and take photos, etc. When we got to the facility, there were some V.I.P.s back there so we were routed to the front lobby. There we got to speak with a Ms. Dana Hutcherson, Deputy Program Manager of NASA’s Commmerical Crew Program. She spoke briefly about her role in the Commercial Crew Program and her path to that point. She was gracious with her time and took a few questions from our group. Shortly after, we boarded our bus. I assumed we’d be heading to our original destination in that building but our guides let us know that tour had reached its end. Given all we’d had the chance to see and take part in that day, I don’t think anyone had an issue with that at all. Until now I hadn’t even had the chance to take note of how tired I was. I was physically and mentally exhausted. As the bus was heading back to our parked cars, some of our group were talking about having dinner together. As fun as that may have been, I knew I should probably get back to my room and sort through things from the day. We had an early report time the following morning, so I figured I’d better get some rest.

I grabbed a quick dinner and headed back to my little dive motel. I got cleaned up and sat down on the bed with my swag bag to see what was inside. There were so many awesome things: stickers, a Starliner hat, a Starliner notebook, aviator sunglasses, a model of the Starliner capsule, an ISS calendar, water bottle, and so on. They really took care of us and I was impressed. I spent the rest of the evening going through several hundred photos and sharing them on my social media accounts. It was great to see how some of them turned out. I glanced at the clock and realized it was already 2300 hrs. I made sure all my devices were charging and closed my eyes.

12/20 0300

The alarm that morning was tough. I’m an early riser but to be awake at that hour of the day is unnatural. I readied my things and myself in twenty minutes and loaded my vehicle. I dropped my room key off in a drop box and made my way down the road to the parking lot. That morning was a lot more unceremonious, with no formal check in, and we all loaded straight onto the bus. Like an unspoken rule, everyone sat in the same seat that they had the prior day. I appreciated the familiarity of the situation. Starliner had an instantaneous launch window at 0636 that morning. If it was delayed, for any reason, the launch would scrub. The wind was gusting a little. Everyone had their fingers crossed, hoping that it wouldn’t cause a scrub. The bus pulled out of the parking lot sometime after 4:00 a.m. and we made our way to the KSC entrance for security check. Same as the prior day, we offloaded the bus and the dog was led on board by his handler. A few minutes later we were back on our way. Directly across the street from the VAB is the LC-39 press site. The bus pulled into the parking lot and we received strict instructions from Greg not to wander off, lest we be dragged off the property by armed guards. The press site was abuzz with activity. All the major news networks were establishing their shots and setting up equipment. The NASA broadcast team were nearby preparing to begin their live coverage. There were extension cords and lighting we had to step over. Behind the live reporters stretched a large lawn all the way down to the edge of a large canal. On the edge of that canal sat the famous countdown clock. The clock showed we were at a designed T-4:00 minute hold when we arrived and still had a little while prior to launch. Past the clock, on the right, our group’s designated launch viewing area was darker with much less light pollution. Against a rope barrier stretched along the water’s edge, the folks with the nice cameras were jockeying for position in hopes of capturing the perfect shot. The wind was cool off the water but not uncomfortable. Over my left shoulder, the VAB and its iconic American flag were shining brightly in the darkness. To my left, in the distance, the mobile launcher platform, configured for SLS, had been slowly crawling its way back to the VAB from pad 39B at the blistering pace of 1 mph. Directly ahead of us, across the water, stood the Atlas V and Starliner, ready for her debut. One of the guys I had met in our group, Jarret, had a phone number he called and it provided a real time broadcast of the radio traffic between everyone in launch control and the blue team at the pad doing the necessary checks before launch. Most everyone had camp chairs and I’d sat mine up just behind Chuck and a few other guys. I pulled up the live NASA broadcast on my phone and it was showing a camera feed from inside the white room. Boeing’s blue team, including Ms. Weber, the engineer that had spoken with us the previous morning, were finishing up final closeout and securing the hatch for launch. There’s a certain anxiety that comes with waiting for a launch. It’s the good sort, but it’s there none the less. There were a handful of people in our group who were about to witness their first launch in-person. Knowing what they were about see, I was excited for them. Before long, the hold on the clock had ceased and we were less than 4:00 from launch. The first few rays of dawn were barely creeping over the Atlantic and giving a miniscule amount of backlight to the launch pad. The rocket was fueled now and vapors from the super-cooled liquid oxygen were venting from its sides. It looked alive on the pad. T-10 seconds. Everyone counted down, waiting with anticipation.

Light. Smoke. Liftoff. Blinding Light. Low rumble, Loud rumble, Literally feeling the power of the launch in your chest! That’s the sequence of events one experiences at a launch. The next few minutes were amazing. As the Atlas V climbed into the dark sky, the rocket’s contrails were brilliantly illuminated by sunlight not yet reaching the Earth’s surface.

The trajectory carried the rocket northeast from our position, up the eastern seaboard. Starliner was blazing through the sky now, having passed Max Q, and throttling up towards the end of the booster stage’s life. The Main Engine Cutoff (MECO) was beautiful, as the Centaur upper stage separated from the spent booster and lit its own engines. Not long after, the rocket disappeared into the morning sky. The collective wows and excitement for the launch we’d witnessed were a more than satisfactory ending to our #NASAsocial experience. Everyone gathered their things and headed back to the bus in awe.

A large portion of the group headed off to breakfast together once we’d said goodbye to our hosts. While we were waiting for a table at the restaurant, we learned the news that Starliner didn’t make it’s intended orbit. Due to a mission elapsed timer failure, the spacecraft did not complete the burn that would allow it to enter the planned orbit to rendezvous with the International Space Station. While this was discouraging to hear, anomalies are a part of spaceflights and unfortunately will happen. That’s why these un-crewed flight tests and checkouts are obviously necessary. Boeing responded swiftly, positioned the capsule in a safe orbit, and landed Starliner at its intended recovery zone, two days later. NASA astronaut Suni Williams, who will command the vehicle on its next flight, christened the capsule “Calypso” upon landing. I’m certain the next time Calypso takes flight, they will have sorted through the issues and the flight will be nominal.

At breakfast, the group was split into multiple tables to accommodate the large number of us. The mix of backgrounds at my table provided great conversation and it was cool to connect with them. We had a teacher, from Atlanta, that teaches English to Chinese students on the other side of the planet via the internet. We had a fine arts photographer who was born in the U.S.A., grew up in Australia, and then moved back to the states. We had a tech professional from Boston. We had an aerospace engineering student from UCF. Then there was me, an environmental technician from Tampa. We were a small cross-section of humanity from everywhere, that convened in central Florida, to watch a controlled explosion help a spacecraft counter gravity and touch the stars.

In our swag bags, we’d all been given a free ticket to the KSC Visitor Complex. The folks at my table decided to go spend a few hours there, as a group, before some of them had to catch their flights home. We all drove over and met up outside the front gate. Making our way inside, we headed straight for the Atlantis exhibit. I’ve visited it multiple times, but one or two people in our group had never seen it. I won’t get into the details of how it’s revealed, but when you see Atlantis for the first time, seemingly suspended in mid-air at a very intentional 43.21 degrees, it’s breathtaking. She’s easily the most beautiful bird Florida. We could’ve spent hours in there, but our time was limited as there were planes to catch. We checked out the early spaceflight exhibit briefly and then decided it was time to go home. Everyone said their goodbyes and we parted ways. I got in my vehicle and reflected for a moment. The last 48 hours were educational, insightful, and inspiring. Driving on I-4, as I made my way west, home to my family in Tampa, I felt like I’d seized the opportunity that had been given to me and enjoyed it for all it was worth.

I went to the #NASAsocial to get a behind the scenes look at something I’m passionate about. I walked away from it having learned a few things I wasn’t expecting.

1. Supporting something you believe in isn’t for a select, qualified few. It takes many pieces, or in this case people, working together, to keep a machine such as NASA and its commercial partners operating. Sharing their work and research, as well as its importance, by educating the public, is vital to the funding the organization receives. Public interest is a powerful force. Elected officials generally go the way of their constituents and if public support for NASA is in a good place, the funding will be easier to attain. Space exploration brings together the best of humanity in an effort to know what’s out there. With rockets launching so frequently due to the commercialization of the space program, it’s an exciting time to be supporting such an endeavor.

2.  Be present in the moment. It’s easy to miss something important while constantly looking through a lens and pushing the content online right away. Making the decision to still capture photos and make the necessary notes, but not share it immediately, allowed me the balance to fully appreciate the experience I was in…..and what an experience it was.

The team at #NASAsocial and Boeing treated our group exceptionally well and we were all so fortunate to take part in it. I’m grateful for my time there and the people I met along the way.  I will continue championing their cause because there’s a generation coming that will see things happen in space that we can’t even imagine. -Jason Fields

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