James Mack's Weblog http://www.jmack.net/blog/ en-us Nucleus CMS v3.22 © Weblog http://backend.userland.com/rss http://www.jmack.net/blog//nucleus/nucleus2.gif James Mack's Weblog http://www.jmack.net/blog/ <![CDATA[Day 2: Prep Work With a Bit of Osaka]]> http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=223
Today was spent recovering from jet lag and doing necessary preparations on equipment for the shoot. Our goal was to be ready to fly at a moment's notice the next morning, so we pulled all the R/C equipment from the vans and began assembly and charge. Not exactly the stuff headlines are made of, but it's why I'm here.

We went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, where I had a "continental breakfast" for about $16USD. Most of the description was in Japanese, so I didn't know exactly what it included, but I was open to any interpretation. Well, almost any. The waiter brought out a glass of orange juice and a croissant. Not exactly what I'd consider adequate for powering me through my day. Still, it seemed that they offered free refills, so I stuck it to them and got five glasses of orange juice and three croissants. The OJ was fresh squeezed, and served to quell the massive headache that resulted from dehydration during my travels.

The helicopter went together in just a few minutes, and the media mount came through intact. Most of the rest of the day was spent charging batteries, combing over the operation of the helicopter and media mount, and staring from the amazing view of our hotel room.

The view from the 26th floor of the hotel gives only a small preview of how absolutely enormous Osaka is. There doesn't seem to be a defined city center, just an expanse of streets and skyscrapers as far as the eye can see. Elevated highways and rail lines traverse winding paths above the streets and between buildings. Every inch of land is built upon, with five bridges crossing the Yodo River is my limited visibility alone.

During our walk about the streets at night in search of food, I came to the conclusion that this city redefines urban as I know it. The neon lights of the night make the city brighter and more vivid than the light of day, and the sheer cleanliness of the city pops out of every nook and cranny. There are no bums, no broken sidewalks, no disheveled buildings, and no litter. And there seems to be a respect of this control and order, with people crossing the crosswalks only when indicated, cars yielding to pedestrians and each other with seldom more than a short polite honk, and nobody seemingly in much of a hurry at all. Most every person walking the sidewalks seems to have fallen from a Tokyo fashion catalog, primped and pressed in suits and the most modern fashion. I wonder to myself if this is all sustainable, with so much energy put towards upkeep and social accord. Whether this is a well-oiled machine churning out beautiful creations or a rubber band stretched taut and about to snap upon its maker. In any case, I'm in absolute awe. It's beauty in the ability of people to work together and strive towards loftier accomplishments than any could dream of alone.

Our dinner was at an Italian restaurant on one of the larger streets here, and included most of the OPS crew. It was amazingly good, though the language barrier ended up with a bit more food ordered than anticipated. The wine flowed freely, and conversations batted about, from strategizing camera angles to the wild adventures of the crew in previous forays. After dinner, some decided to explore the streets of Osaka, but I decided to get my first real night of sleep here. I enjoy the city at night, but I'm no night owl.]]> personal http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=223 Thu, 25 Oct 2007 12:45:02 +0200 <![CDATA[Day 1: En Route to Osaka]]> http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=222
There aren't many photos from today. The inside of a 777 isn't too photogenic, and during the brief flurry of excitement we had left no arms free to capture the chaos of wrestling large pieces of luggage through a crowded Tokyo train terminal.

My day started at 3am, eating Grape Nuts and the remainder of the orange juice in the fridge. I was trying to get up early enough that I'd be tired on the flight to Tokyo, sleeping my way into the Japanese time zone and avoiding jet lag. I'm pretty sure that there's really nothing you can do to smoothly shift your circadian rhythm by 9 hours, but I was operating on bits of information from friends' suggestions, my own best guesses, and a "Sleep Doctor" at the British Airways website. I finished the last of the preparations on my trip to-do list; finishing packing, taking out the trash, cleaning Nilla's cage, and making sure Luna had plenty of food and water. Around 6am, Tommy called with the ride to OPS HQ for the limo van.

The next 16 or so hours were pretty much standard airline travel fare. We were dropped off at DIA, ate while we waited, connected at SFO, ate while we waited, and then herded into the center row of a 777 for the long leg to Tokyo. I did my best to sleep, begged for my bag of peanuts from the stewardess that would glance toward the poor guy 3 seats from the aisle, and watched the complementary inflight entertainment. It was perpetually daylight, through the entire 11 hour flight, the view out the window (from 7 seats away) looked the same, a mid afternoon view of clouds and ocean.

When we arrived in Tokyo, we met up with a few other travelers. Greg was to be one of our divers, and Hayden was there doing media coverage. (I later learned that the petite blond was actually Hayden Panettiere of Heros fame. No wonder she looked so good after the 11 hour trip when the rest of us looked like we'd been on a cattle drive.) We purchased our tickets for the train and rolled all our cargo to the connecting train from Narita (airport) to Tokyo (connecting station). The bags were just beginning to feel heavy, but we'd seen nothing yet.

The real difficulty was getting through the Tokyo terminal to our ride aboard the Shinkazen (bullet train) to Osaka. The Tokyo terminal was bustling, and I was on 50 pound pelican case duty with Tommy while others hauled the unwieldy blimp box, sound equipment, and tripod case in addition to their own cargo. We pushed our way through crowds, up stairs, and through gates while trying to decipher the Kanji on the boards to see where we needed to go. And nobody ever could figure out which ticket the gate machines wanted, we'd each been given three tickets and only knew of two trains that we'd be riding. We usually just presented all three to the nearby gate attendants where they would instruct us which one was needed.

We got to the final train platform about 10 minutes before departure, at train car 5. Getting to car 12 had to be one of the longest parts of the trip, because after hauling the pelican case through the rest of the terminal, we only had energy to haul it about one car at a time between breaks, as we struggled with it sideways to slip it along the narrow edge of the platform. When we finally got to car 12, it was too big to fit in the car itself, so we stuffed it in the entrance next to the washroom before taking our seats in the adjacent car. We chuckled a bit at the warning on the seats in front of us. "Please report all suspicious or unattended baggage to train personnel." It couldn't have been much more suspicious than giant black cases and duct taped cardboard boxes, and we surely weren't in the mood for attending to them when we just wanted to rest. But the train personnel were friendly and understanding.

We were all sweating at this point, and at least one other passenger changed seats to avoid us. Our seats were pre-assigned, and I'm pretty sure that disobeying an assignment is not to be taken lightly on this island, so that says something about our presentability. The trip to Osaka was another two hours, and at this point, everyone in the crew had traveled enough. We made the best of our time, alternately slept and looked out the window as lights whizzed by at 300kph.

When we got to the Osaka station, we did our best to fit everything into taxis to our hotel. Our cargo was much larger than what would typically belong in a small Japanese taxi. The pelican case rode sticking half out the trunk, and the Blimpbox 3000 got a cab to itself as it rode in the back seat. My driver seemed confused by the directions given, but when I finally figured out that there were numerous Hotel Hankyu's, and that he wanted to know that we were going to the "international" one, all was fine.

We then settled into the hotel, taking advantage of the internet access, nice rooms, and of course the famous heated toilet seats. The view from the hotel is amazing, we're on the 26th floor and the view down is dizzying. I'll try to get a decent photo when it's not so dark.

And I author this at 4:00 local time, unable to sleep. I guess my magic jet lag plan didn't work so well after all. Maybe someday I'll figure this out...]]> personal http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=222 Tue, 23 Oct 2007 12:41:28 +0200 <![CDATA[Night Falls on Hoboken]]> http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=221
Afterwards, I dropped myself into the driver's seat of my car to head back home, but I paused a bit before swinging my legs under the steering wheel and shutting the door to the rest of the world. The whir of an electric fuel pump caught my attention as it drew the remaining fuel from a pilot's tank after the day's flights. I was captured by the sound of gears meshing, undulating slightly as small bubbles passed through the line. It was almost musical.

Then, I realized, it was musical. The sound was reminiscent of the background loop on the first track of Yo La Tengo's tenth album. Their music pulls not from intensity and cacophony, but from the ambience that's persistent as we trudge through our everyday lives. I guess it made me think that if you look hard enough, you can find something beautiful, without stuffing earbuds in your ears or staring at the glow of a television. Just stop and pay attention.

As I shut the door to my car, the rest of the world disappeared outside carefully placed seals and sound insulation, leaving me alone in a vacuous interior of black vinyl, bird's eye maple, and the subtle red glow of the instrument cluster. On my way home, I listened to the asynchronous whine from the two turbos just ahead of the firewall, the slight tick as the synchronizers in the transmission fell in step, and the subtle feedback through the steering wheel as the front tires found pebbles and irregularities in the road surface. And of course, the whole time, I left the radio off.]]> public http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=221 Sat, 25 Mar 2006 21:51:53 +0100 <![CDATA[A Little Bit of Matson Jones Never Hurt Anyone]]> http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=220 Last night, I went to a Matson Jones show at the Aggie Theater in Fort Collins. The first thing you see, hear, or feel about Matson Jones is the pair of cellos that define half of this quartet. This duo is skillfully blended with an upright bass and drum kit, and the sonorous tone of the instruments are polarized by the piercing, distorted voices of the two female vocalists. I initially feared that such a novel combination would tire quickly, handcuffed by the inflexibility of the rhythm instruments which had fiercely grabbed my attention just moments earlier. Yet, they manage to escape the appellation of "one trick pony" through creative arrangements and dissident lyrics. And there's something simply infectious about four bass lines.

The night was well supported by a cache of local bands, including D. Biddle, Munly and the Lee Lewis Harlots, and another band that I regretfully missed the name of, for they weren't officially on the bill. Munly was particularly interesting, a high energy anachronism who seemed to be trying to keep one foot in the wild wild west and another in the goth/punk movement. They certainly gave Matson Jones a run for their money as the highlight of the show. Our $6 tickets were low in cost, but high in value.

And because I have a few photos that I don't want cluttering the front page, I'll drop the rest of my experience into the extended portion.
I really feel bad about this, but I didn't catch the name of this first band. They opened the show, with the lead singer doing a solo performance before being joined by keyboard and drums. Like D. Biddle, the band that followed, they gave a solid rock performance.

D. Biddle put out with his raspy voice and the most polished stage presence of the night. The trumpeter nursed a tall boy while the bassist seemed indifferent, all while Duncan belted out his stories of misdeeds and injustice in a sound that was familiar but satisfying.

As I said before, Jay Munly and the Lee Lewis Harlots gave Matson Jones a run for their money. Their energy incited a mosh pit among the high schoolers near the stage, and Jay Munly's dark, sunken eyes pierced into the crowd, his intense gaze occasionally making you wonder if it was you who had incited the rage of his lyrics. Unfortunately, the acoustics of the Aggie didn't do them justice, and the complex and subtle layering of violins, cello, bass, drums, and jazz guitar turned to disarray and discord.

When Munly left the stage, Matson Jones took over. This is why everyone showed up, and the audience was obviously familiar with the music. Lit up by Munly, the teens near the stage were further frenzied by the driving bass and drums of Matson Jones, and garnered a bit of commentary from the band due to their mosh pit antics. From familiar favorites like "Arson", to songs off the new EP like "Exes and Ohs", they consistently hit the mark, and the Aggie's sound system was finally relieved by a sound a bit less demanding than the bands prior.

They finished with an encore of "Italian Song", per crowd request, and at almost 2am, Chris and I walked back to the car. Matson Jones certainly doesn't seem to try all that hard, as they admitted to not practicing that often, and their live appearances are few and far between. As such, it seems that they'll forever shirk any form of greater success, content in their niche with, as Spin magazine put it, "what seems to be the second biggest Goth following in the state of Colorado". But they seem to be inherently talented, and when they do play, nobody in the house can sit still. And maybe that's what good music is all about.

All in all, I enjoyed nearly 6 hours of music for 6 bucks. Plus, I went home with a new pair of socks. Score!
]]> public http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=220 Sun, 19 Feb 2006 18:19:11 +0100 <![CDATA[Nick Drake]]> http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=219 The life of Nick Drake, by most accounts, ended far too early. A purveyor of introspective rock/folk in the late sixties and early seventies, he was intensely shy and self-critical, and seemed to always be just shy of breaking through to success. He died in 1974 due to an overdose of antidepressants he had been prescribed, opening speculation of suicide, despite reports from his friends that he was getting progressivly happier in the weeks before his death. The speculation was fueled, however, by the content of his songwriting, such as these lines from "Fruit Tree":

Fame is but a fruit tree
So very unsound
It can never flourish
'til its stalk is in the ground

and these from "Pink Moon":

I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get ye all
And it's a pink moon

The truth behind his death will likely never be known, but his music has enjoyed a posthumous revival in recent years. Initially featured on a Volkswagen ad, and later part of the Garden State soundtrack, he finally entered popular consciousness. His music is not out of place in today's music scene, and might be likened to more recent singers such as Iron & Wine and Jeff Buckley (who happens to be another similarly premature loss). Perhaps his posthumous success will provide some sort of redemption, but if nothing else, he left us with more than we had the day he was born.

His story also serves to remind me just how precariously I'm often perched between satisfaction with what I've done and the drive to improve upon it. Nick Drake habitually fell upon the darker side of that line, unable to find value in what he had done within his lifetime. I believe a certain amount of dissatisfaction is healthy, but like most attributes, it must be kept in check by finding pride in my accomplishments, whether or not they happen to be perfection.

I'll close with the lyrics of one of Nick Drake's songs which ended up on the Garden State soundtrack. I highly recommend that you try to get yourself a copy of the song itself, because reading the lyrics of a song is like reading half the pages of a book. You get an idea of what's going on, but the experience is incomplete.
Nick Drake - One of These Things First

I could have been a sailor, could have been a cook
A real live lover, could have been a book
I could have been a signpost, could have been a clock
As simple as a kettle, steady as a rock
I could be
Here and now
I would be. I should be
But how?
I could have been
One of these things first
I could have been
One of these things first.

I could have been your pillar, could have been your door
I could have stayed beside you, could have stayed for more
I could have been your statue
Could have been your friend
A whole long lifetime could have been the end
I could be yours so true
I would be. I should be through and through.
I could have been
One of these things first
I could have been
One of these things first.

I could have been a whistle, could have been a flute
A real live giver, could have been a boot
I could have been a signpost, could have been a clock
As simple as a kettle steady as a rock
I could even be here
I would be. I should be so near
I could have been
One of these things first
I could have been
One of these things first.]]> public http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=219 Wed, 15 Feb 2006 21:21:05 +0100 <![CDATA[Set Yourself on Fire]]> http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=218 To date, I haven't really given any direct musical recommendations, despite the fact that I spend a lot of time searching for and enjoying new music. Perhaps I'm a bit shy, and don't really want to make too firm a stand for something that somebody else may not appreciate. Plus, I'm sure there's resistance to scribing this down with a bit of permancence, because I'm likely to look back in the future and think "I can't believe I recommended that."

Therefore, this post is a bit of an experiment. As part of the perpetual amorphousness that charactertizes this weblog, I'm going to go out on a limb and make my first recommendation in Stars' album "Set Yourself on Fire". I know it's cliche, but the easiest way to describe Stars to the unfamiliar is by comparing them to another popular indie band; Death Cab For Cutie. Like Death Cab, it's clean and mellow electronic rock set against vocals with an uncanny ability to stir emotions through subtle emphasis and suspense. The twist is that Stars sports both a male and female vocalist, and they play against each other quite reminiscent of Ben Gibbard's work on The Postal Service. It's catchy, fun, and well-executed, and I recommend it.

Something which isn't quite so out of place in this context is a mention of song lyrics. I'm sure a few of you will figure out why.
Stars-Your Ex-Lover is Dead

God that was strange to see you again
Introduced by a friend of a friend
Smiled and said 'yes I think we've met before'
In that instant it started to pour

Captured a taxi despite all the rain
We drove in silence across Pont Champlain
And all of that time you thought I was sad
I was trying to remember your name

This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin
You tried to reach deep but you never got in
And now you're outside me you see all the beauty
Repent all your sin

Nothing but time and a face that you'll lose
I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose
I'll write you a postcard, I'll send you the news
From the house down the road from real love

Live through this and you won't look back
Live through this and you won't look back
Live through this and you won't look back

There's one thing I have to say so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you
I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save]]> public http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=218 Sat, 11 Feb 2006 22:32:53 +0100 <![CDATA[A Travel to Canaveral]]> http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=217
In summary, it was an amazing experience, and one that has re-energized my enjoyment of the work that I do and given me a great deal of personal satisfaction in the work I have done. Before the launch, everything seemed abstract and escoteric. Who cared the smallest iota about interstellar dust? But now, after all the media attention, I need only mention one thing: "We're going to Pluto!".

I can't thank the SDC group enough for the company during the week down in Cocoa Beach. Nothing beats hanging out with a bunch of like-minded engineers and physicists, especially those who are laid back and fun loving. You made my trip.

So, without further adieu, I offer you the recount of my adventures. You may need to click the "Read more..." link to see the rest.

Day 1: Saturday, January 14, 2006


I set out from Boulder with my typical travel agenda: stuff my small duffel with a week's worth of clothes and head out on public transit to the airport. This procedure was honed during numerous weekend travels to Philadelphia, and had worked quite well for a laid back and inexpensive travel experience. The only difference was that this time the duration was to be six days and not three. Some creative clothes cramming took care of that. I even managed to take two pairs of shoes.

On the plane, I was seated next to an extremely impressive young woman by the name of Sarah Stern, who just happened to be the daughter of the New Horizons principal investigator, Alan Stern. We had a flight nearly full of interesting conversation; about the mission, about Boulder High school, about 311 and concerts, and about her father's insane schedule. She was concerned that she might not get into the journalism program of her first choice school of University of Texas, Austin. By my assessment, this seemed unlikely. She was as articulate and poised as anyone I had met in my college tenure, and I'm sure she has what it takes to rub shoulders with the best of them in Texas.

Upon landing in Orlando, I met up with Chelsey Bryant and Daivd James and headed out to pick up baggage and catch the shuttle to the Enterprise pick-up. The line was huge, because landings had been delayed by strong crosswinds, and everyone landed and headed to the rental agency at the same time. I stood in line for an hour before being handed the keys to a quite acceptable dark gray Nissan Sentra. Took a right on Narcoossee road and jumped onto the 528 on our way to meet Tiffany Finley at the Ron Jon Resort in Cocoa Beach.

The Ron Jon turned out to be an excellent choice of a place to stay. The suite was well equipped and a decent size, with a full kitchen, bedroom, and large bathroom, and decked out with beach-themed art and bright hues of yellow and pink. There was a large hot tub and an even larger heated pool, along with a game room, exercise room, restaurant and bar, and even mini golf. I don't think I heard a complaint about the accomodations over the entire trip.

We went to dinner at a little grill at the end of the Cocoa Beach pier, which happened to be deserted on this Saturday night. The food was just fine, though, perhaps due to my choice of a fish sandwich, not being adventurous enough or confident enough in the establishment to order something that wasn't battered and fried. The Boston-raised waitress played the delicate balance of rudeness and friendliness, and was kind enough to offer up a few suggestions for our nighttime entertainment. We called Andrew Jenkins and Anselm Fernandez, and set out to find Patty Cassidy's, an apparently swingin' little pub with a good selection of fine beers.

Upon finding Patty Cassidy's in the unexpected company of a strip mall, we headed in and proceeded to pull some tables together and order some drinks. I played darts for quite a while while nursing a pint of Murphy's Irish Red, and around midnight, we decided to call it a night and ambled back to the Ron Jon.

Day 2: Sunday, January 15, 2006


Anxiousness got the best of me Sunday morning, with a bit of difficulty sleeping in the company of others, and an overwhelming apprehensiveness about what I was going to eat for breakfast that morning. I managed to stay in bed for an hour or so while contemplating things, but eventually ended up heading out to the nearest Publix to get some muffins, milk, OJ, fruit, and cereal. I enjoyed a muffin while reading my book for a while, when fatigue got the best of me and I headed back to bed to catch up on sleep.

When things finally got rolling, Chelsey, David and I took advantage of the amenities of the resort. We spent some time in the pool area, enjoying the lazy river, water slide, and hot tub. This activity segued into lunch at the poolside, where I once again opted for fried fish. We then headed back to the suite to watch Tiffany's presentation about the instrument on NASA TV. She was quick to hide behind the slides, but she got the only question of the session, and managed to do us all proud. While waiting for Tiffany to return to the resort, we played a few rounds of mini golf, which consisted of the same 2 holes repeated 9 times. I still got spanked by Chelsey and David, spending most of my effort trying to get out from between the rocks at the perimeter of the course.

When Tiffany returned, we jumped on the shuttle to the beach. In hindsight, the shuttle was hardly necessary, as the beach was only a few hundred yards away, but we played our part as lazy tourists. We put little more than our toes in the water, tried to bury ourselves in quicksand, marveled at a beached and decaying stingray, and made some small dribble castles. The beach is a nice excursion, even in winter.

About that time, it was time to get ready for the New Horizons launch reception at the Cocoa Beach Marriott. Despite our pleas, Tiffany headed off to the airport to pick up Nick Bunch and Beth Grogan, while we headed out to mingle in a crowded room of only occasionally familiar faces. Surprisingly, I didn't sample much of the smorgasboard of appetizers lining the room, and instead did laps trying to find people I knew among a hot and humid room which was past the capacity of the A/C system. I was bought a glass of wine by Caroline Himes, and greeted Nick and Beth when they arrived with Tiffany. Eventually, we tired of the swamplike conditions, and headed back to the resort as things thinned out.

Back at the Ron Jon, we got a call from Tiffany saying they were returning with a "friend". We briefly speculated exactly what this could have meant, but didn't think much about it until Matt Colgan, Beth, Tiffany, and Nick returned bearing the dolphin ice sculpture which accompanied the chilled meats at the reception. Apparently, they had asked if they could have it as things came to a close, and, well, they got it. We took turns posing with the frozen dolphin in the sink before leaving it alone to its melted death. A portion of the group then headed out to the Ron Jon's game room for pool and Dance Dance Revolution, an offer which I declined, being completely exhausted from lack of sleep.

Day 3: Monday, January 16, 2006


Another anxious morning, used to getting up with the sunrise, left me up a bit before the rest of the crew. I took the opportunity to hit the exercise room and chill a bit with my book and my iPod. After spying David and Chelsey by the pool, I slipped into my trunks and took advantage of the water for a bit before returning to the suite to get ready for some more "official" activities.

Part of the reason for the extended stay in the area was to assist LASP and NASA with their educational outreach activities. For me, today's activity was to take part in a small SDC presentation for educators and educational policy makers. Fran Bagenal was leading off with an overview of the SDC project, and at the end, Vaughn Hoxie, Beth, and I were to give short descriptions of our contributions to the project.

All of us except for Fran had arrived plenty early, but about 5 minutes before our presentation was slated to start, we began to get a bit worried by her absensce, and began planning contingencies. Should Kate Becker give the presentation in Fran's place? Should we hold off for later and hope she shows up? Then, just as the previous speaker was finishing and people were shifting in their chairs, Fran bursts into the rear of the room, attributing her last minute entrance to some story of the rollout and how absolutely amazing it was. Without missing a beat, she dives into the SDC slides, albiet only breifly before deciding that the slides were far too boring to start off a presentation, instead setting a DVD video in motion. After her part was done, we gave our short speils on the project before fielding questions.

And guess who was in the audience asking questions? Bill Nye, the Science Guy! Taken aback a bit by our initial glimpse of wide-eyed child geek stardom, we answered questions as to the nature and size of dust particles we were to measure, and how these compared to those of the Stardust mission. Afterwards, a bit awestruck, we asked to have our photo taken with the man himself, a certain highlight of the trip.

With a bit of time to kill, Beth and I decided to go to the Kennedy Space Center vistor's center to register for the launch viewing and pick up our loot. There, we met Chelsey, David, and Tiffany, and grabbed some astronaut ice cream before browsing the rocket garden and heading back to the Ron Jon.

We finished off the night with a large group at Rusty's for seafood, accompanied by Mihaly Horanyi and his son Balazs, and Tiffany's parents as well. I had a huge bowl of seafood alfredo, which was a pleasant experience despite the fact (or perhaps, becuase of the fact) that it got the better of me and I resigned before finishing it. We had an early morning the next day involving visits to some local schools before the launch, so we decided to head to sleep earlier than usual back at the Ron Jon.

Day 4: Tuesday, January 17, 2006


Today was the day. An Atlas V-551 was scheduled to lift off from pad 41 of KSC at 1:24PM, and the our crew was going to be there to witness it. The day began, however, with early morning school visits for members of the SDC team. Tiffany, Dave, and myself were to go to Freedom 7 Elementary in Cocoa Beach and give a talk to a group of second and third graders. The school itself was pretty amazing, a public school that appeared to have the demands of many private schools, with a uniformed dress code and very strict standards of behavior. Despite their composure, we could tell the kids were just bursting at the seams with excitement about the mission. After we had given our quick descriptions of ourselves, we turned to the floor for questions, and twenty little hands went up almost instantly. The energy in that small gym was amazing, and I would have gladly stayed there for hours doing projects and fielding questions with the kids. The time to leave came far too soon, however, as we set off to KSC to catch the bus to the visitor's viewing area.

When we got to KSC, a quarter-mile line had formed to board the buses. I think this might be what tourists do in Florida, mostly, stand in line. All joking aside, things actually moved pretty smoothly once we started boarding, and we had nearly 1000 people ferried off to the launch viewing site in under an hour.

Watching the weather that morning, we knew that the biggest threat to the launch was going to be high winds. Stepping off the bus, things really didn't feel all that terrible, although it certainly wasn't calm. As the launch window opened, the voice on the PA system announced that they were going to hold for an extra 20 minutes to see if the winds were going to get any better. These holds were chronic, sometimes 15 minutes, sometimes 20, but each time there was a collective sigh of despair as the launch was pushed back yet closer to the end of the window. The children didn't seem to mind, however, and entertained us with games of red rover and duck duck goose on the grass.

As the launch window drew to a close, the PA system announced that the hold would be released, and that the launch would proceed, barring any "red" alert codes. We held our breath as the counter ticked down from 4 minutes, to 3, then at just under 3 minutes, we got word that the wind gusts had exceeded their 38mph limit, and that the launch would have to happen another day. There were high hopes for a launch tomorrow, but because of our limited stays in the area, we all became a little more uneasy. Our blissful ignorance had finally been disturbed, and we realized that everything might not go off with mechanical precsion.

The bus ride back to KSC almost turned riotous. The bus had been sitting in the sun for over two hours, and when we got on, it was baking inside. To compound this, the A/C system was not working, there were no windows, and the bus was filled to capacity. The humidity and temperature climbed steadily during our lethargic trip, and by the end, people were complaining rather vocally about the issue, though these complaints fell on the deaf ears of the tour guide. Things hit the flash point when we stopped just 50 feet from the unloading zone, and waited there for roughly 15 minutes while some of us were nearly ready to pass out. About then, a charge of 3-4 people headed to the front of the bus, and the tour guide finally let us off in an "unofficial" zone. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, but knowing when to disobey the strict interpretation of policy is essential to good customer service, but this guy apparently skipped that course.

We decided to forget our woes with an SDC party, hosted by Gail Tate and Mihaly. We were treated to Subway sandwiches, chips, sodas, cookies, and beer, and assembled the largest collection of SDCers since the delivery of the instrument. Certainly a good time. And when the party thinned a bit, we headed back to our little pub, Patty Cassidy's, for some pool and darts before again calling it a night.

Day 5: Wednesday, January 18, 2006


Wednesday was the day I finally hit my rhythm sleep-wise, and I slept in a bit and took an early morning dip in the hot tub. Tiffany and Nick left to get their VIP tours in before the end of their stay, but I passed, because I wasn't too interested and it seemed that they were likely to be too late anyway. Soon after they left, we learned that the day's launch had already been scrubbed, due to a power outage at the operations facility in Maryland. Time for a plan B.

David, Beth, and I decided it was a good time to check out that landmark of Cocoa Beach, the Ron Jon store. It was certainly impressive in size; two stories tall and occupying the area of a football field. It was packed with all manner of beach lifestyle paraphernalia; from surfboards and bodyboards and skateboards, to swimsuits and clothing. If it was a local store, or had I a little extra room in my luggage, I could have seen myself going wild. But as it stood, I was purely an observer, not looking to buy anything, but browsing for a good half-hour to an hour.

From Ron Jon's, we went to Grill's for lunch, where I had an excellent tuna steak, easily the best fish of the trip. The mood was a bit less favorable, however. We were all a bit down, especially since David was leaving that evening, and Beth was leaving the next morning, so as it stood, they wouldn't see the launch. The past few days, we had seen everyone's emotions riding up and down, sometimes swinging between the two in a matter of minutes, and this lunch was undoubtedly a low. We had invested a lot of ourselves in being there and seeing our creation go, and hated to let go of that.

So, the time came to bid David a temporary adieu, as he headed off to the airport to catch his flight back to Colorado. Beth and I then went off to meet up with the remaining travelers to catch the IMAX movie with our free KSC guest passes. While waiting for the others to arrive, the movie's start came and went, at which point they closed the doors until the next showing began. When everyone else finally did arrive, we did a mini tour of the visitor's complex, remarking at how unremarkable it was. The exhibits were fairly dumbed down, and only occasionally captured the depth and nuance of space exploration. Still, we managed to climb inside a mock space shuttle, visit the astronaut's memorial, and most importantly, have our photo taken as if we were real astronauts.

As the time for the next IMAX show rolled in, I passed and took a quick tour of the rocket garden before making my way to my rental car, as I really wanted to get back before Tiffany left so I could offer some parting words. We chatted a little while before she, too, had to leave for the airport, almost certain to be another casualty of our delayed launch. I sent her off, then grabbed my iPod and engaged in some serious tunes-listening action while I waited for the others to return from KSC.

At that point, the mood brightened just a bit. The weather report looked really good for Thursday, and calls were made to the airlines to inquire about the cost of changing tickets. It turns out that getting your flight changed to another on the same day had gotten easier and less expensive recently, and Nick and Beth resolved to call in the morning to finalize plans for a departure that would allow one more opportunity to see the launch. Previous days may have claimed the launch windows of two of our comrades, but we were hopeful to save the rest.

For dinner, we headed out with Chelsey's clan to Fish Lips, a seafood bar and grill with inexpensive seafood and an excellent atmosphere. The primary draw that night was karaoke, a mixed bag of brief highlights and extreme lowlights. The beginning acts were promising, including Chelsey's sister and anonymous members of a group of older patrons. As the night wore on and further drinks were imbibed, however, things got a bit ugly. My advice to karaoke patrons everywhere: if the alcohol's flowing steadily, know when to cut your losses and head home. Because what starts off as mildly entertaining can quickly turn to downright repulsive. We waited a bit too long, and that's all I'll say.

And with that thought still fresh in our minds, we went to sleep, hoping that it would soon be displaced by memories of a Pluto launch the next day.

Day 6: Thursday, January 19, 2006


My last day in Florida, Thursday was the day I had my fingers crossed that everything would finally go off without a hitch. Nick and Beth had their tickets changed so that they returned home later in the day, leaving us time to see (most of) the launch window. By our quick calculations, we had to leave Cocoa Beach around 2:30pm to return the car and catch our flights, which left us most of the available launch window between 1:08pm to 3:07pm. The launch was more likely to happen near the beginning of the window, anyway.

The three of us killed some time at the Cocoa Beach pier, taking our shoes off and walking the beach, enjoying the surf, drawing figures in the sand, and scheming about possible analogies for an SDC themed episode of South Park. We then dropped in on the Ron Jon again, this time armed with 15% discount cards from our stay at the resort. I got a shirt and a Ron Jon hat, which brought me up just shy of the $30 minimum needed to use the discount. So I added a stick of lip balm to my booty to meet the minimum. It ended up costing me a negative dollar, discount applied.

We weren't inclined to use the official KSC viewing area, because doing so would leave our departure time for the airport in the hands of the KSC bus drivers. The clerk at the Ron Jon said that Jetty Park was one of the better offsite viewing areas, and it happened to be right next to the Ron Jon Resort. We headed one last time back to the Ron Jon, and walked the 10 minutes to the park viewing area itself to avoid parking fees. Taking a seat on the rocks of the jetty, we speculated a bit about where the actual launch pad was, seeing as there are about 10 pads constructed on the east edge of the cape for the various rockets launched. Not that any of them were directly visible from our location, everything on the ground was obscured by trees, leaving only a smattering of towers peeking above the horizon. Even the best launch viewing areas keep you well away from the launch pad itself for safety reasons. Once everything got going, though, there wouldn't be any doubt where the rocket was.

TNT may make the claim quite often, but we were beginning to think that launch operators might be better able to own the slogan, "we know drama". Today's problem was low hanging clouds. The launch vehicle needed to be visible to an altitude of 6000 feet from the ground, so that the launch could be aborted if anything happened in those first few seconds. An east wind was bringing a string of patchy clouds off the ocean, and again we were holding 15 or 20 minutes at a time to see if things cleared, our anxiousness increasing steadily with each delay. Simultaneously, we were keeping an eye on our watches, knowing that we had to give our own "abort" when the hands reached 2:30. David James was our umbilical cord to NASA TV, keeping us updated on launch status as we sat on the jetty watching the Coast Guard helicopters and patrol boats keeping the area clear.

Then, we got word that the hold was going to be released at 2pm. A hole in the clouds was drifting towards the launch site, the wind was calm, and all the systems on the rocket were checking out nominal. We bit our nails in anticipation as David gave one last call, putting us on a LASP speakerphone so we could hear the countdown. Shortly after we heard, "liftoff", we saw a plume of white vapor leading upwards, led by a small scepter of orange and white. It trailed up, arcing gently outward over the ocean, and accelerating deliberately as it went to the heavens. The sound met us well after the rocket had left the ground. In volume, it was quite similar to a jet aircraft at takeoff, but the pitch was a deep roar opposed to a turbine's whine. Just as the Atlas V was disappearing from view, we saw a brief flash as the five solid rocket boosters separated. The plume itself then lingered and writhed and twisted in the winds, and was eventually the only reminder of the event that just occurred.

The three of us marveled a bit in awe, speechless, before we collected our senses and began our journey back to Orlando airport. I have mentioned before how our emotions rose and fell with the successes and failures of each day, and at this point, we were soaring high. Through the instrument we built, we had developed a bond with so many people with a keen vested interest in the success of this project. I simply cannot describe the satisfaction of being part of something so positive. I was happy not just for myself, but for all my team members, and for Alan Stern, who worked tirelessly for over 12 years to bring this moment to reality. But this comaraderie extended past the people who worked on the project, to include everyone who dreams of space and gets excited about pushing the envelope. I saw it in the eyes of the third grade class, and I realized, more intensely than any other time during my three year tenure on the project, that what I do is not important just to me, but to millions of Americans as well.

Back at the Orlando airport, I bid adieu to Nick, who was heading back to Dartmouth for his graduate classes after a brief stop in Boston to see a friend at M.I.T. On the plane, I sat next to another launch visitor, a Mr. Harold Wick, a Lockheed employee and friend of Alan Stern who had come down on his own accord to view the launch. To say I was restless was an understatement, thoughts were racing around my head about how this changed, just a little bit, my view of the work that I do. I think that the launch was the point where I realized, once again, that this wasn't *just* another job. This was worthwhile.

Our flight landed in Denver to overcast and snow, a stark contrast to the moderate temperatures and clear skies of Florida. I spent 45 minutes in below freezing weather waiting for my bus to arrive, and on the ride home, I saw at least two cars that had spun off the side of the road and rolled over. Ahh, Colorado. The trip was amazing, but it was good to be home.]]> public http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=217 Thu, 2 Feb 2006 18:45:00 +0100 <![CDATA[Payment Received]]> http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=216
--

Dear Tiffany,

I figured as long as I was paying postage, I might as well make use of it and send a letter. One has to economize in the wake of another postal rate hike, after all.

The book I'm reading now is a scientific dissemination of the current understanding of how the brain works and how we function as social creatures, and how we can use this knowledge to obtain fulfillment. Ostensibly, it's another one of those cheesy self help books, but it has intrigued me because it's rational scientific discourse on a topic that has traditionally been the realm of spirituality and other "touchy feely" pursuits.

But my intent of this letter was not to summarize the findings of a 300 page psychology study. Instead, I simply wanted to pick a parable from page 97 involving a study performed by the author on his introductory psychology class. In this study, he asked his students to do four things over the course of a week; indulge the senses, attend a class or lecture they normally would not, perform a random act of kindness, and express their gratitude towards someone close to them. They were then asked to write down their reactions to these activities.

The results probably aren't too surprising. People had a definite, albeit fleeting, reaction to indulgence. Savoring a meal or engaging in intercourse provided definite highs, but their fulfillment was ephemeral. The most fulfilling activities, including expressing gratitude, turned out to be the most awkward, but also the most enduring.

Sometimes you need to see something in print to obtain the confidence to act upon what you already knew. My modus operandi has usually been to show how I feel through consistent, moderate behavior, with exceptions made when the mood is just perfect or extreme circumstances warrant them. I've realized, though, that this leaves too few times for me to hug my Mom, to tell my Dad how grateful I am he gave me the opportunity to engage my curiosity, to tell my sister how she has grown into one of the most interesting people I've known, to tell Eszter how much her caring and fearlessness has helped me to fall in love, and to tell Anne the RN how her quick diagnosis probably saved my life.

And you. I've counted on occasion, and it's 10-20 times a day that I think of you, somehow. Usually it's something simple that reminds me: a story about Harry Potter, a mention of MIT, or an E36 BMW. And you've changed me, just a little. I'm no longer sick for days from the anxiety of traveling alone to a strange place. I know the casual sophistication of a cashmere sweater. I've learned how valuable it can be to have friends in Wisconsin. But fundamentally, I enjoyed your company for reasons beyond simple tips and tricks. I liked you because you expected as much of me as I expected of myself, giving me the energy to tackle the things that I really wanted to change for the better. You're a complex, interesting, and unique person who has influenced me in innumerable ways, and for that I am grateful.

The trip to Florida was difficult for me. I had spent two months prior making as little contact with you as possible so that I could objectively evaluate what went wrong and move on to whatever was next. It took about two minutes to unravel all that. I know that some day I'll figure it all out and find someone else who makes me as excited as you do, but until then, you'll have to forgive me for being occasionally erratic, distant, or otherwise difficult.

So there you have it. I guess I've said before how amazing I think you are, and how I want to stay in touch despite us parting ways. But here it is, elucidated in a lengthy letter, that hopefully says everything more clearly than my hints and innuendo of yore. It might be a little rough for me, but I know it would be much worse if we lost touch altogether.

A little bit of me will be yours, always,

James]]> personal http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=216 Mon, 23 Jan 2006 21:39:25 +0100 <![CDATA[Already on Vacation]]> http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=215
The past week has seen quite a flurry of activity surrounding SDC here at LASP, due largely to the efforts of our new EPO staff getting attention from the local media. On Tuesday, a reporter from the Daily Camera stopped by to interview the team for an article for the Sunday paper. On Wednesday, CBS channel 4 news came by to get some video for a short story on Wednesday night, along with a longer one slated to air the day of the launch. I'm feeling slightly famous and important, and the pride in my accomplishments has unexpectedly swelled.

Keep an eye on the news. You just might see me.]]> public http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=215 Fri, 13 Jan 2006 10:49:20 +0100 <![CDATA[Habemus CIPS]]> http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=214 I can't claim to be the originator of the title of this posting; it belongs to the project manager for the CIPS instrument, Mark Lankton, who used it in reference to "Habemus Papam" ("We Have a Pope!"), the exclamation when a new Pope has been ordained. Peeping through the cleanroom window this morning, I saw the fruits of our labor over the past few years, standing upon its handling fixture. I'm not sure if it's beautiful, it actually looks like it's been through a lot and come out somewhat haggared, but it finally has a shape and an identity that existed only in our imaginations before. To be honest, I'm only faintly moved by it, having been stripped of ownership in its design and construction, though I do appreciate its significance to the team and to the lab.

Something that did move me, however, was the scene when I made the right turn from the bike path onto the gravel utility road on my way to work this morning. Looking westward, I was confronted with an intense rainbow set starkly against an inky black sky. The photo fails to capture the image in my mind, staring at the blackness where the foothills used to be, beguiled by the strip of color spread across the landscape, and stopping for just a moment to appreciate the serendipity.

]]> public http://www.jmack.net/blog/index.php?itemid=214 Tue, 3 Jan 2006 20:52:07 +0100