Not many people know this, but barely 16 hours after setting sail for America on 3 August, 1492, one of the deckhands aboard Christopher Columbus’ ship, La Santa Maria, died a mysterious death. Although no official record exists, it is believed that one Vincenzo died a quick, unexpected death and was instantly buried at sea.
Legend has it he was also the first sailor to ask: “Are we there yet?” As a future space explorer and planet coloniser myself, I know there are very important lessons to be learnt from history. Vincenzo is a case in point.
The other day, returning from the Mother Ship, I mean the Mother City, I tried to imagine what that first flight to Mars would entail. Dressed in my (fake) Nasa T-shirt, I made my first vital decision: to Mars, I’m flying business class. Economy class won’t cut it for me. Not on that flight.
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I can definitely live very happily for nine months on French wine, Australian beer, Irish whiskey, and beef from Argentina. But I sure as crackers won’t make it on… crackers, cheese and plastic cutlery. I won’t survive nine months in such a tiny seat either. The tiny bathroom for those of us who fly in the chicken coop is luxurious compared to the wornout bucket seats. That explains why I pretend to feel ill the moment I step onto a plane.
Yes, I’m the guy hogging one bathroom, just for the space, tranquillity and the lovely legroom. Sorry. Another observation is that us colonisers will need the best cabin crew ever. Serving five meals a day, drinks, snacks and offering a bar service, for nine months straight… Slavery. Now there’s an idea… No! That reminds me of another story.
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I have no idea how true it is, but apparently an ice bucket makes for the perfect cabin crew foot spa on long journeys. This is probably (hopefully) just an urban legend, but just in case, I’ll be having my whiskey (with the e) neat on the way to the red planet.
So, late 2030, early 2040, to Mars! Business class, whiskey neat and I won’t be the first to ask: “Are we there yet?”
