Crew-2

It was 2:45 in the morning when my room in our vacation home was filled with a soul-crushing tune. In the darkness of the night, I pushed myself out of bed, walked over to the horrifying noise, and swiped the alarm off. My phone opened up to my home screen—a photo of my cat Suzie sitting atop the Storage Cube in my room. She was a large cat, with long, gray fur and huge eyes.

I knew I would see her at the end of the day. However, I had more important business to attend to—I was going to watch a rocket launch. SpaceX, as it turned out, was launching a rocket on my last day in Florida, and a manned one at that. And what was I supposed to do—ignore it?

And so, I got changed, grabbed a bottle of Coca-Cola, and waited for my dad so we could go out the door. At 3:15 in the morning, the two of us walked down the stairs into the abyssal night and entered our rental car. Only a few minutes later, he began the long, dark drive to Titusville, Florida.

As we drove, I was simultaneously incredibly excited and bored. I had heard stories about seeing a rocket launch—about the fire and the sound. And I had heard about how rockets were powerful enough to scorch an incredibly wide area around them. And although my spontaneous interest in rocketry and space had only started about a month prior, I couldn’t contain my excitement to see a rocket launch.

It was around 5:00 AM when, after hours of staring into the dark sky and trying to find the big dipper while my father drove the car, we arrived at the A. Max Brewer Bridge—a concrete behemoth connecting Titusville to its coastal beaches. As we drove over, the sight of pale orange streetlights illuminated the small crowds of people who stood along the edges of the bridge. Both my father and I realized as we crossed the bridge that we had found a place to watch the upcoming rocket launch.

And so, my dad slowly made his way across the bridge through the dark parking lot at the end to find a parking space. We subsequently left the car and began to approach the bridge. The bridge itself was inundated with spectators who lined the metal barrier between them and the water. Cameras were lined against the wall, and children hollered in excitement. Even as a teenager, I struggled not to join the hollering.

As we walked along the crowded bridge, I looked at the countless people and I imagined the excitement that each of them felt. Everyone was sitting there in anticipation, even forty minutes before the launch. After a minute or two, the biggest question became apparent—where should we stop? There was no clear answer—we knew we didn’t want to be too close to other people due to the ongoing pandemic, but there were no real limits other than that. Eventually, we found a spot not far from the top of the bridge and we stopped.

Upon arriving, we looked over at the brightly lit area where the countless cameras faced. We still had almost forty minutes to wait. The two of us looked around at the boats watching from the water including the small series of canoes that I worried would get too close to the launch. However, even I knew that my worries were likely unfounded. On the surface was a hulking cube which we could only assume was the Vehicle Assembly Building.

By T-15 minutes, cars continually rolled across the bridge, and new spectators walked up the bridge. Up until then, there was still the question of whether or not the rocket would launch or have to abort, but by then, it was almost guaranteed that it would launch.

I shivered in excitement as we reached T-5 minutes and as I placed my phone in my pocket to watch. That didn’t last of course, as I had to see what time it was. 5:44 AM. 5:45 AM. I knew the rocket would launch at 5:49, and that time was approaching rapidly. I stood there in anticipation and listened to the live feed as they counted down. As it turned out, it was still about 30 seconds behind.

5:46 and 5:47 rolled around as I stood there and peered at the light of the launch pad. It was impossible to see anything other than the fact that there was a light there. By the time 5:48 had rolled around, I had placed my phone in my pocket and waited.

A few seconds after 5:49, a flash of yellow illuminated the launch pad and even at a distance of miles away became the brightest thing in sight. Slowly and silently, the light climbed upwards, slightly illuminating the minuscule metal cylinder that was riding atop it. The water in front of the rocket reflected the light as if it were the brightest lighthouse on the globe, and the launchpad became entrenched in a pillar of smoke left behind by the rocket.

As it entered the clouds, all that was visible was the golden outline that surrounded the clouds and the pillars of light that extended above and below them. It was around this time that the roar of the rocket finally caught up with us—a roar that demanded respect and reverence and that was nothing like the sound of frying bacon we had been told to expect. Although there were no vibrations from the rocket that we could feel, the sound made it seem as though the Earth itself was shaking. The roar, for a brief moment, grew louder until it began to become slightly quieter. And then, in an incredible display of power, the rocket propelled itself above the clouds. I held my phone up to take pictures as it climbed. The rocket slowly grew fainter until it was nothing but a faint streak slowly climbing into the sky leaving behind a series of blue-tinted gas clouds in its wake. And then, as it arced over us, its light flickered into blackness. The sound of the rocket slowly quieted itself down into oblivion.

Everyone paused as the sky became clear—it appeared as though nothing had happened. And then, in a single moment, the rocket turned back on, creating a circular plume of gases in its wake that slowly expanded as it moved. Simultaneously, small flashes of light appeared behind it with no known cause. For a moment, I looked to try to find the launch-escape capsule. But instead, I saw a rocket that kept going. The entire crowd was silent—confused by what had happened. And yet, the rocket cared not for our confusion and continued to fly. About thirty seconds later, when the live feed didn’t stop and instead kept going, it became clear that the strange flashes in the sky were something of no real significance.

As the rocket moved ahead, an immense circle of light sat in its wake and filled the sky, filled with plumes of light blue converging at the point of the rocket. The gaseous circle filled the night sky with light. And slowly, as the rocket flew away, the circle dissipated into the darkness of the night. All that was left behind was the dim light of the rocket, which was eventually joined by the light of the first stage as it entered the atmosphere and approached a landing.

By the time we made it onto the bridge to depart the island, we had already had to wait forty minutes due to the sheer amount of people trying to get across the bridge at once. And yet, it was entirely worth it. As we crossed the bridge, I thought about how incredible seeing the rocket was. Even at eleven miles away, it was still far brighter than the full moon. I had never seen anything like it. And as we drove over the bridge and away, I was satisfied.