Fly Me to the Moon. Don’t Charge Me for Snacks

I was feeling so cabin feverish before this week’s thaw that not even New Zealand sounded far enough away. I wanted to leave Planet Earth altogether. So naturally I looked into lunar tourism or what might be called, in the spirit of Porky, Daffy, Bugs and Elmer, Looney Tours.

I knew Richard Branson of Virgin Atlantic Airlines has been pushing ahead on space tourism for several years. I wanted to know how close he is to scheduling the first excursion, what it’s going to cost, how long it’s going to take to get there and whether they’re going to charge for pretzels.

Here is what I learned:

Moon shots are still a ways off. But soon, possibly next year, you will be able to take off from a spaceport in New Mexico, gaze back at our lovely planet from 70 miles (350,000 feet) up, travel at three times the speed of sound (that’s how fast the state trooper who used to chauffeur Gov. Rendell around Pennsylvania drove, if you’re wondering) and experience weightlessness (the cabin of SpaceShipTwo, according to Virgin Galactic’s website, “will have lots of room for zero g fun” – which sounds to me like a coy invitation to weightless sex, but maybe that’s just how my mind works).

I also learned from Virgin’s website that its carrier aircraft (not to be confused with aircraft carrier) runs on nitrous oxide, which might explain copy like this:

You are instantly pinned back into your seat, overwhelmed but enthralled by the howl of the rocket motor and the eye-watering acceleration… You’re on a high; this is really happening, you’re loving it and you’re coping well.

This high is not pie in the sky, by the way. They’ve broken ground on the spaceport and conducted several test flights of mother ship and baby ship. They work. Branson himself plans to be on the first suborbital flight, so you know he’s not going to launch until it’s safe (although he is planning on bringing his mother).

Joshua Bush, Virgin Galactic’s “local accredited space agent” for Pennsylvania – he’s based at a travel agency in Swarthmore – filled me in on the details. The package includes three days at the spaceport (which in one computer rendering looks exactly like a malformed bagel), where you train for the flight and get fitted for your flight suit.

Then you, the other five passengers and the two pilots spend two or three hours aloft, including four-five minutes of weightlessness, before gliding back to Earth to receive your astronaut’s wings and your bragging rights at a closing ceremony.

Right now, tickets cost $200,000. Call me cheap, but that sounds like a lot of scratch to do what Alan Shepard did 50 years ago.

By way of comparison, consider that a week at the New York Yankees Fantasy Camp in Tampa costs $4,950. And on your suborbital flight you’re not likely to meet Oscar Gamble, wearer of the largest afro in Major League Baseball history.

On the other hand, you run much less risk of pulling a hamstring aboard SpaceshipTwo – unless you get carried away doing “astrobatics” during the weightless portion of your flight.

Since 2005, says space agent Bush, 400 people worldwide have plunked down the $20,000 deposit to be among the first space tourists. Bush himself has sold two trips. I asked him if he wanted to go, too. “Absolutely,” he said. But he needs to recruit a few more astronauts first.

Personally, I’m inclined to hold out for the moon. The next stage after suborbital flights, though, is – surprise – orbital ones. That takes us to John Glenn, 1962, on the NASA timeline.

Then we skip moon landings on the NASA timeline and go to the orbiting hotel – space tourism’s version of the Soviets’ Salyut 1 (1971) and NASA’s Skylab (1973). Bush hears check-in time may not be for another decade or so.

As for the full Armstrong:

In July 1969, according to Virgin’s website, “a 19-year-old Richard Branson watches the moon landings on TV with his parents and sisters and determines that he too will one day experience the wonder of space.”

In July 1969, according to Statecollege.com, “a 14-year-old Russell Frank watches the moon landings on TV with his bunkmates in the dining hall of a camp in the Poconos and determines that somehow, some way, he’s gonna get up to Woodstock in August.” (Didn’t happen.)

Bush suggested that lunar tourism, like any commercial enterprise, will become viable when there’s enough demand to enable the Richard Bransons of the world to turn a profit.

I’m no marketing wiz, but if the moon itself isn’t enough of a draw, how about building a baseball complex up there and combining lunar excursion with fantasy camp? I mean think about it: A meet-and-greet with Oscar Gamble on the moon? “Live the dream,” as it says on the Yankees’ fantasy camp website.

No? How about if they throw in free pretzels?