Hey, folks, good morning from the cockpit! This is your pilot, Captain John Strongbeck, speaking. I’d like to personally welcome you aboard this SpaceX tourism flight and share just a few important announcements before we fling ourselves into outer space for, well, pretty much no reason.
First off, sorry for the slight delay, but we’re going to be taxiing for a bit. We are ninth in line for departure behind six satellite launches, a satellite-repair mission, and a Red Bull stunt that involves sending a highly caffeinated horse into orbit.
Cruising altitude today will be approximately a billion, two hundred and sixty-seven million, and two hundred thousand feet. If you’re afraid of heights, the cabin door has already closed, so just try to sit quietly for the next eight days and eleven hours and reflect on why you decided that this would be a cool vacation. Maybe you found yourself with some extra dough thanks to the estate-tax repeal? Or maybe you saw “Guardians of the Galaxy” and thought, “I could do that.” Something inspired you to hit Purchase, so try to cling to whatever that was while you’re retching into your space bucket. And before you ask—yes, a space bucket is just a regular bucket, with a lid.
We have a wide variety of snacks for you to enjoy on today’s flight. Bad news first, though: someone onboard has a nut allergy. Sorry, it’s a bummer for us, too. We packed almost twenty pounds of peanuts per person in lieu of backup oxygen tanks. To that end, please try to keep all breathing shallow. We do have hummus boxes for five dollars.
Hey, here’s some good news! We just got bumped up for departure. Sounds like they’re having problems with the horse.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. You’ve got three movies to choose from today: “Boss Baby,” “Boss Baby 2,” and “Boss Baby 3: All Boss, No Baby.” If you get through them all, you’ll be able to watch them again in Chinese or Turkish.
Now let’s get into some safety procedures. If you’re sitting in an emergency-exit row, you should be willing to perform basic emergency assistance, including repairing damage to electrified solar panels, rewiring the escape pod, or duct-taping a rig of CO2 cannisters to work in the lunar module. If you feel uncomfortable with any of these responsibilities, please keep it to yourself.
In the case of a drop in air pressure, oxygen masks will fall. Put the mask over your mouth and nose, and breathe normally. You’ll know oxygen is flowing if your eyeballs don’t immediately explode.
If there’s an ammonia leak—and I can’t stress this enough—get to work quickly. We’ve had passengers replace the pump controller box in five and a half hours flat. I was watching you as you took your seats, and I think you guys can beat that record. But remember: leave no trace while working, since even a stray fleck of paint can send this spacecraft plummeting back to Earth in a fiery wreck.
It’s a good idea to always wear your seatbelt, even when the fasten-seatbelt sign is off, so that you don’t float out of the pod and get crushed by a series of rapidly rotating gears.
Also, a life vest is located under your seat. That’s really not going to do much for you, but feel free to put it on if it makes you feel better.
Hey, here’s a little more good news from the flight deck. Everyone else just cancelled their launches due to some weather, but we’re going to ride it out. It’ll be a bit shaky right there at the beginning, so please buckle up to protect our gears from your limbs.
See you in space!
