Posted on Dec 22, 2011 12:11:30 AM | Don Pettit | 0 Comments
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At the Cosmonaut Hotel in Baikonur, we scribble on our dormitory room
doors shortly before leaving for the launch complex—with an indelible
marker, no less. Doing this as a kid would have resulted in a fierce
scolding. I know I have had such a talking to, and in turn have talked
to my sons.
Writing on the wall has been happening since humans lived in caves,
and is ingrained into the very fabric of our being. So writing on our
dormitory door just comes naturally. Should I trace the outline of my
hand? Should I draw a mastodon? Maybe a rocket.
Perhaps some future anthropologist, excavating ruins from this
forgotten civilization, will happen across these scratches and remark
how primitive these times were—humans sacrificed to the space gods by
blasting them off in rockets.
