Ok, I’m back. I managed to upend my life a bit since my last post, but that hasn’t stopped my brain from working.
A few weeks ago I received an email saying that employees could sign up to tour the crew module of one of the orbiters as it’s being processed for museum display. So I did what any red-blooded Rocket Nerd would do. I said, “OH HELL YES!”
My slot was scheduled for last Wednesday. I had successfully fended off all the meetings that had attempted to be scheduled over the time (not just out of greed: if I gave less than 48 hours notice, I’d forfeit the tour, period). As I drove up to the Orbiter Processing Facility I was nervous, almost like I was going out on a date. These craft are special, as I discussed in my first post, and having the opportunity to not only see one but step inside seemed too good to be true.
Finally, the rest of the tour group showed up and our escort walked us inside and steered us toward High Bay 2, where Atlantis stood.
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| OPF 2 Entrance |
I had been on vacation when she landed, so I was glad to have another chance to see her. Our escort walked us past the ops desk and up the stairs that led to the platforms enveloping the nose. As I’d expected, the forward thruster module had been removed to be decontaminated, leaving a gaping hole in Atlantis’s nose.
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| Atlantis's Nose, sans Forward RCS Module |
We were then walked around to her starboard side and up to another platform. This revealed the payload bay. The doors themselves were hidden by structure, for good reason. Like the Canadarm, the doors cannot support their own weight in Earth’s gravity, so special equipment has to be used to open them. I was awed by the size of the bay. You always hear that it can contain something the size of a school bus, but seeing it firsthand truly drives that point home.
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| The Payload Bay |
Our escort led us on. I looked down to see that I was walking OVER the flight deck windows. I only got to savor that thrill for a moment before we were prodded on.
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| Looking down at windows that looked down on the world |
Finally we stood at the air shower where the technicians would have any residual dust cleaned off their bunny suits before entering the orbiter. Those requirements had been lifted once the shuttles left flight status, so all we needed to wear were booties slipped over our shoes. After a few minutes we were signed in and led around the corner from the shower. Before us stood the hatch. The technician gestured us inside.
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| The Hatch |
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| Rocket Nerd added for scale |
The hatch is not large, so we had to crawl through. But I was INSIDE. I stood up in the mid deck, barely clearing the ceiling, and looked around. The mid deck is small, about the size of a small bedroom, and according to the technician, completely gutted. All of the lockers, seats, and crew support equipment had been removed. Add all of that back in and two thirds of that space is full—before astronauts. I struggled to find an angle that would give anything resembling a sense of the size of the mid deck, but did not fare well.
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| Mid Deck Forward Bulkhead |
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| Mid Deck Aft, standing at forward bulkhead |
The airlock hatches were open, so I could see into the payload bay. How many times had I seen the flag on the aft bulkhead growing up?
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| View through the airlock |
After a few minutes, we were led up the ladder to the flight deck, which makes the mid deck spacious in comparison. I could touch the pilot’s seat and the aft control panels without coming anywhere close to stretching my arms. The seats didn’t look all that comfortable either, with some wafer thin padding over steel plate.
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| Flight Deck aft station. I am sitting between the Commander and Pilot Seats. |
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Pilot Seat. Cushy.
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| Commander's Seat |
It also struck me that most of the instruments screamed ’70s technology, despite Atlantis being the first orbiter to fly with the “glass cockpit” upgrades that reduced the amount of mechanical instrumentation the crew had to deal with. One panel labeled “event timer” displayed numbers on individual dials showing through holes in the panel cover—something I last remembered seeing in Roger Moore-era Bond films. But as we were being ushered back down the ladder, something a little more modern caught my eye…
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| Dude... |
We were led back out the mid deck hatch and down the platform stairs. We were shown the aft compartment and walked beneath her, where the small dings in the tiles from her final launch were evident. And then we were back outside. I walked back to my car with mixed feelings. As elated as I was to be able to board Atlantis, the reason the opportunity existed still stung.
(Apologies to Alanis Morissette. My pun habit is uncontrollable…)
