Unfortunately, my insurance only covered about twenty bucks of the prescription painkillers that cost two hundred. I have some vague memories of speaking very harshly to a short Pakistani pharmacist at an all-night drugstore. Jim has since assured me that the poor pharmacist didn't deserve any of the tongue-lashing. Like I said, I get irate with the whole medical industry in this country. It is an industry, not an art, or a merciful charity, or a scientific profession. Hell, it's not even magic for that matter.
By the time I got back to the hotel, the painkillers were working great. I was so loopy, I would never have made it into the room by myself. It seemed like the next thing I knew my alarm was buzzing at me. I hit it and it stopped. Then the phone rang. It was my wakeup call. I forced myself up and took a shower. Jim must have helped me pack, although I have no recollection of that. I got dressed very slowly, trying to withstand the pain. After a short while, I became more awake and less under the influence of the painkillers that I had taken the night before. My mind was clearing, but there was still a dull ache in my side and any sudden movement nearly killed me. Once, I sneezed, and I thought I was going to die it hurt so badly.
I got a cab to the airport but unfortunately I wasn't going home. I had a conference on "The Progress of the Breakthrough Physics Propulsion Program" to attend at NASA Goddard Space Flight Center the next day. I was looking forward to the conference before I broke my ribs. Thank goodness I had enough air miles built up to upgrade to first class. Coach seats would not have been fun.
CHAPTER 2
Normally I don't drink on airplanes. It dehydrates me, and the air in commercial aircraft is dry enough as it is. But this was an exceptional circumstance. My ribs hurt and I was in first class where drinks are free. I figured a couple drinks couldn't hurt and might even help dull the ache in my side. I was on my second domestic beer before the coach section was boarding. I watched the sky marshal eye the coach passengers as they filtered past him at the entrance of the plane. I think he realized that I figured out what he was and he quit making eye contact with me.
After a few minutes of that, boredom set in so I began flipping through my slideshow on my laptop for my talk the next day. I just couldn't get in the mood so instead, I pulled up a game of chess I'd been playing the computer for about a week. I'd lost the game about fifty times, so I kept undoing the game back to when I was in the lead and starting over from there. Needless to say, I'm not that good at chess. I was on about my third beer when it looked like the plane was going to be closed up and I would have an empty seat next to me. Then, at the absolute last second, a woman in a U.S. Air Force uniform came through the hatch, made her way to the seat beside me, put her bag away, and sat down next to me. Her rank appeared to me to be light colonel. She looked very familiar also.
Once she was settled in her seat she finally gave me the cordial "hello" that you give the person sitting next to you in an airplane. I returned the "hello" and went back to my beer and chess game. The flight attendant wandered by and asked if I needed anything and told me that I had to turn off my computer for departure. I closed the laptop and replied that I could use another drink. Like I said, I never drink while flying.
By the time we leveled off at twenty-eight thousand feet out of Louisville, it was time to find the lavatory. The captain didn't turn off the seatbelt light a second too soon. I slowly made it up and by the "Colonel" and found the restroom. If you ever try to use a bathroom on a commercial aircraft I suggest that you don't do it with two broken and three separated ribs. Each tiny pocket of turbulence I could feel travel up through my leg bones into my torso and finally my ribs. The three beers didn't help either.
I finally gathered my wits and felt my way back to my seat. This time I noticed the wings on the colonel's shoulder and realized where I had seen her before. She looked different with her red hair in a ponytail rather than floating around her on the International Space Station (ISS). She was an astronaut and I had seen her on television. In fact, according to the show I'd seen she had more space hours than any other female astronaut in history.
I said, "Excuse me," to her as I sat down. I got myself settled and then pressed the service button. When the flight attendant returned I asked for my fourth beer. Just as she turned to leave I sneezed. If you have ever had broken ribs you know this is not a good thing to do. I think I already mentioned that.
"Oh shit!" I clutched my side and swallowed back tears.
"Are you okay?" the colonel asked.
"Uh, yeah. I've got a couple of busted ribs and that sneeze suck . . . uh, hurt." The pain began to dissipate and hopefully, so did the grimace on my face.
"I see," she said. "This may seem a little strange but you look familiar to me."
I laughed and clutched my side. "That's funny. I was thinking the same thing. You are Colonel Ames, right? The female astronaut with the most hours in space?"
She smiled and presented her right hand. "Tabitha Ames. It's nice to meet you."
I reciprocated with, "Neil Anson Clemons. Friends call me Anson."
"I thought I recognized you," she said. "Didn't you give the talk on the modified Alcubierre warp drive at the Advanced Propulsion Workshop at NASA Marshall Space Flight Center last summer?"
"Well," I replied. "There were about four or five talks on warp theory last year, but I did give one of them. Are you going to the Breakthrough Physics thing?"
"Yes. In fact I'll probably be a lot more involved with that program in the future," she said and looked at me speculatively. I had no idea what she meant by that. I didn't really care since the attendant finally returned with my beer. Colonel Ames surprised me and asked for one too.
"Can you drink on duty?" I asked.
"Who says I'm on duty?" she retorted in a mind-your-own-business way.
"Oh," I said as if I'd been scolded. I'm not sure what it was but Colonel Ames has this air about her that she's the boss no matter who's in the room. The simple inflections in her voice are enough to make you feel good or bad, it just depends how she means it. Some people have this talent. Myself, I just trip and fumble over my heavy north Alabama accent and hope people at least understand what I'm trying to say. Then I usually throw in a "Well, Haiyul far! I just made all that sheyut up. It's probably all wrong" just to cover my ass. For some reason people believe if you talk with a Southern accent you're an idiot. Let 'em keep thinkin' that.
With both feet in my mouth, I asked, "Don't you astronauts usually fly trainers wherever you are going?"
"I have too many hours this week so it was either second seat or commercial," she replied.
"I see. You know I have put in an astronaut application each open time since 1999 and never once even got an interview. What's the trick?" I asked jokingly.
"Well, for a mission specialist I guess the trick is to come up with an experiment that has to be done in space that only you can do." She pursed her lips as if in thought, then replied, "You've only been trying for ten years?"
I nodded yes.
"Don't give up." She smiled at me and I felt like I could do anything. Some people just have the ability to inspire confidence. Colonel Ames definitely inspired something in me.
"If I may ask, why and for how long have you been so interested in space flight anyway?" She smiled and shrugged at me.
"Don't mind you askin' at all. I don't really know a date exactly but it is all I've ever wanted to do. My mom tells me it is because I'm destined to it." I replied.
"Destined to it?" Colonel Ames asked.
"Oh, yeah that's a neat story. You see I was born at the exact instant that the Lunar Excursion Module of Apollo 11 touched down on the moon. I'm certain thousands, heck maybe more, babies were born at that instant, but it must be destiny according to Mom. You know how mothers can be," I explained and kind of laughed.