These are turbulent times…
I think it was 22 years ago that I found out about an especially intriguing part of NASA’s astronaut training. I somehow had seemingly always known prospective spacemen and spacewomen had trained in swimming pools as part of approximations of weightlessness. But it was only during press tours for Ron Howard’s APOLLO 13 that I found out about the “Vomit Comet.”
This is a special airplane that does high altitude flying. By tightly constrained and controlled parabolic maneuvers, the plane can simulate 60-90 seconds of zero g’s. The thing is, what goes down must come up… and the multitude of parabolas does a number on even the ironest of stomachs… hence the Astronauts’ nickname for the jet: The Vomit Comet.
Howard and co. used the jet to shoot scenes for the true life drama of the successful failure of Apollo 13 and I think they presented a unified front from Tom Hanks, Bill Paxton, and Kevin Bacon in refusing to say who lost their lunch the most.
I find myself thinking this on my delayed flight to Paris where I now have an incredibly tight connection to make it to Dubai for Friday’s marathon. Whether it’s an effort to make up time or an indication of the skies themselves, there’s an awful lot of turbulence and the seat belt sign is rarely off. The pilots keep trying to find smoother rides and to do that they keep going up and down and down and up like a yo yo. Adding to the motion is the actual turbulence.
I’m feeling it to be sure. It’s no Vomit Comet but I have opted for a glass or two of ginger ale to try and settle down my roiling stomach. Worries over the impending mad dash through Charles de Gaulle airport aren’t helping matters either… but that’s another story.
