Sunday, December 09, 2012
A Rocket City Thanksgiving
One of Unk’s
favorite sayings is “change is always for the worse,” but even he will admit
that’s not always the case. If you
are a faithful reader of The Little Old Blog from Chaos Manor South, you know
it’s been a long standing tradition for me and Miss Dorothy to spend the Thanksgiving
holiday at the Hotel Monteleone in New Orleans’ French Quarter. We are empty
nesters and get to do whatever we want on most holidays. But we decided NOLA
was out this year.
Why? After so
many New Orleans Thanksgivings we’d kinda got in a rut, doing the same, exact
same, things year after year. Check in, trot around The Quarter for a while,
Supper at Sammy’s on Bourbon Street, a stop at Dedicated to the Preservation of
Jazz, etc., etc. All of those are fun things, but we were ready for something
different this Thanksgiving, we reckoned. Not only was there now a certain
sameness to our trips, Unk was weary of making the drive west to New Orleans,
since he’s been commuting over there fairly regularly to see to the LPDs at
Avondale Shipyard.
One night
over supper we were discussing this very thing and Unk blurted, “How about
Huntsville? I know we went to the Space and Rocket Center this past April, but
there are always new movies in the IMAX, and I bet there’s a new traveling
exhibit, too.” Miss D. did a little research on the Internet and was soon sold
on the idea. Not only were there fresh movies, the current traveling exhibit at
the Center was “MathAlive!” Dorothy
allowed as how the combo of space and math just had to be a winner.
Ironically, Unk
wound up in New Orleans anyway, spending the first three days of Thanksgiving
week there working on LPD 25. By the time I was back in Possum Swamp Wednesday
afternoon, I was most assuredly not in the mood to drive back over to Louisiana
again. I love the city, but enough is sometimes too much, as you’ve heard me
say before.
Anyhoo,
packed up early but not too early Thanksgiving a.m. and headed north on I-65 to
Huntsville, a.k.a. “Rocket City.” Traffic was light on the holiday’s morn, and
the boring drive up to Montgomery wasn’t too bad. At the end of that stretch we made our
traditional stop at the Stuckey’s just outside the city.
It was a
little too late for my beloved fried chicken biscuit or breakfast of any kind,
so Unk and Miss D. settled for chili cheese dogs, which were disgustingly
delicious. We did note “our” Stuckey’s appears to have fallen on ever harder
times. It’s looked depressed for at least the last five years or so, and even
though they were doing a brisk business on this Thanksgiving afternoon, there
was an air of gloom and doom.
Stuckey’s is a little more “normal” these days,
with the gee-gaws on sale more like what you’d find in any Stuckey’s than the
very strange hyper-religious knick-knacks that dominated for a
while. Nevertheless, it’s obvious all is
not well. Restrooms were nasty and,
hard as it is to believe, there were no Goo-Goo Clusters, Stuckey’s signature candy.
When we paid for our selections, a little junk food for the motel room, the
cashier didn’t have any bags to put our stuff in. If this continues, I expect them
to be gone soon, and our Montgomery stop will have to become Priester’s Pecans
or Bates’ House of Turkey. No Stuckey’s? Dagnab it!
Anyways, the
second half of the trip, from Montgomery to Huntsville, felt a lot quicker than
the first half, as it usually does. In just a little while, it seemed, we were
waving bye-bye to Vulcan’s statue and
closing in on Rocket City. We’ve been to Huntsville often enough that I suppose we
could have found our way without help, but Unk’s Tom-Tom GPS got us to the
motel with a little less fuss. The GPS did do a good job getting us where we
wanted to go, but the whole time we were in Huntsville “Samantha” displayed an
odd penchant for telling us to make U-turns. Modern technology, I reckon. Go
figure.
After a
not-too-bad but hardly stellar experience at the La Quinta last time, we were
determined to find a better motel near the Space Center. That “better” was the
Best Western just off University Drive, one of Rocket City’s main drags. It was
new and looked decidedly upscale compared to the poor La-Q. Plus, it was located
just behind one of Unk’s favorite Mexican restaurants in the whole world, Rosie’s Mexican Cantina, which would be within
easy walking distance. When we unpacked in our room, it was obvious we’d made
the right choice: spacious, clean, and
new with a great big flat-screen television set.
The chili
dogs had been good, but we wanted something a little more substantial to serve
as our Thanksgiving repast. So, we hopped into the 4Runner, Miss Van Pelt, at 4
p.m. and went in search of a restaurant, any restaurant, that might be open on a
Thanksgiving evening.
We could see Rosie’s was locked up tighter than a drum.
So was the Logan’s steakhouse next door. We were just about to give up and settle
for the pea-picking IHOP when we noticed there were cars outside the Buffalo
Wild Wings at Madison Square Mall. Buffalo Wild Wings for Thanksgiving? Why
not? Had to be better than IHOP, which holds a distant third place in Unk’s breakfast
joint pantheon well behind Waffle House and Huddle House.
B-Dubs was a
good choice. The staff was friendly and soon had Unk set up with a giant brewski
and D. with a big glass of wine. Miss Dorothy did cause considerable confusion among
the young staff with her request for Pinot Grigio, but they eventually figured
out what the heck that was. Unk had the boneless wings (wild sauce), and
Dorothy had a flatbread sort of pizza that was really good—she let me have a
bite or two. All in all, we had a super suppertime. It was perhaps our most
memorable if most humble Thanksgiving dinner in a long time.
K9EID on Ham Nation... |
Eventually,
Unk dropped off into dreamland, and despite having consumed an almost unseemly
number of fiery chicken wings and
Kolorado Kool Aids, he slept soundly and knew nothing more till the next
morning. After a surprisingly lavish motel breakfast, me and Miss D. headed for
The U.S. Space and Rocket Center at about 9 in the a.m.
Walking past
the grave of brave space-monkey Miss Baker, Dorothy and I had a good look at
the pretty old SR-71 who is living out her golden years parked in front of the
Center where she is visible from the Interstate. It’s mostly space at the Space
and Rocket Center, but there are some wonderful aviation artifacts, too (they
run an “Aviation Challenge” camp in addition to Space Camp). Got a nice picture of Miss Dorothy posed with Miss Blackbird, and
we headed in.
We ignored
the enormous gift shop for the moment—you are darn tootin’ we’d buy space stuff,
but we save that for last—and headed for the ticket counter where Dorothy took
care of our admission and movie tickets. While Space Junk was playing in the IMAX, we opted for something a little
different this time, Air Racers,
which would be in the 3D theatre in The Davidson Center for Space Exploration
(the rocket hall). While D. was getting us set up for that, Unk, as always,
spent a little time communing with and contemplating the huge bust of Dr. Wernher
Von Braun, one of the truly great men of the Twentieth Century. He was a human
and flawed like all of us, but he had one thing that’s rare today: a clear vision of the future.
In the
museum, we noted that at least some of the Von Braun exhibits from the Center’s
celebration of his centennial last spring were still on display, and that was a
good thing. Unk particularly enjoyed the images of the great man’s space wheel.
I’ve been fascinated by this still-futuristic space station since I was a tiny
little grasshopper. The first time I saw a picture of it, I thought it was a flying saucer like the ones that were
currently annoying the denizens of 1950s drive-in movie theaters and lovers’
lanes. I learned the even more intriguing truth of what it was when Man in Space
ran on the old Disneyland TV show. Actually, I probably saw a rerun of it,
since on its original air date, March 1955, even old Unk would have been too young
to grok space stations.
The hit of
the trip, though, especially for Miss D., was the traveling exhibit, Raytheon’s
“Math Alive.” While it was aimed at the young set, the interactive exhibits
were enjoyable for and being enjoyed by their parents and by us. What I
particularly liked was a rather elaborate station that allowed us to stack
images from the Hubble Space Telescope, and explained the mathematics behind
the noise reduction that ensued. Now, benighted Unk has at least an idea
how Deep Sky Stacker and Nebulosity really work.
Wandering
on, we took a stroll through the army’s permanent exhibit (Redstone Arsenal is,
of course, a U.S. Army facility), which deals with the future battlefield and
with missile defense concepts. While nothing much had changed here, it is so jam-packed
with stuff that I always notice something new and cool.
Which
brought us to the vaunted Rocket Park. I have somewhat mixed emotions about the
Center’s back 40, which is filled with historic missiles and spacecraft;
everything from Jupiter Cs and Atlases to an honest-to-god Saturn IVB. Miss
Dorothy and I love strolling along, the missiles looming above us like a forest
of great trees, but I can’t help but feel that at least some of them deserve
better. Out here, exposed to the heat and rain of Alabama summers and relatively
cold northern Alabama winters, these wonderful old machines age quickly. The
Center’s Saturn V, which is now proudly on display in the Davidson Center, was in
the park for the longest time, and her stay there probably at least doubled the
amount of restoration required.
Ah, well. We
enjoyed ourselves despite the slightly chilly, gray day. Faves? For me they are
always the venerable Atlas F ICBM, the mockup of a never flown nor built
original Lunar Rover that was more like a laboratory on wheels than a go-kart,
and the wonderful Army air defense missiles. I am glad these have been
preserved for now—they are true historic treasures. Included is the exoatmospheric
interceptor from the old Safeguard ABM system, Spartan, which will catch the
eye of those of y’all old enough to remember the Army’s forward-looking but
ill-fated anti-missile-missile system.
Of particular
note at the moment is the Skylab hardware at the far end of the park. In part, it
is obviously a mock-up—there is a faux Apollo CM “docked” with the station. But
the larger part of the thing appears to be real, as in an engineering
development model at least. The Center is collecting money in a campaign to
restore America’s first space station, and good on ‘em. Skylab deserves to be
spiffed up and moved to a good home indoors. Stingy old Unk actually
contributed a few dollars to the effort.
One thing
has not changed in the Davidson Center: the massive Saturn V looms above you as
a mighty presence from the moment you enter. This is the star of The U.S. Space
and Rocket Center as far as I’m concerned, but in keeping with the new spirit
of advance and enthusiasm I sense here, there is plenty of other stuff on the
floor of this huge hall, and it get changed out purty frequently. New this time
was a swing arm from the Saturn’s Launch Umbilical Tower, and a full size model
of the new Orion capsule.
Most of my
attention this time was devoted to looking at and photographing the beautiful
Lunar Module at the far end of the hall. I paid close attention, since I am
about to begin a new LM model kit. I still
like the one I did several years ago—I liked it well enough to enter it in a
recent model show/competition—but I believe I can do better now. I was not
ashamed to enter my LM, but it was just not quite good enough to win any
awards. NEXT YEAR!
When Unk had
finished photographing the ungainly Lunar spider, it was getting on to lunch
time, and we decided to head back to the Center’s restaurant while we still had
time for a leisurely bite before the movie. I was somewhat amused to see the fast
food chow hall has changed its name once again. Now it is The Mars Grill. Last time it was The Rocket City Grill. Before that it was The Lunch Pad. What next? “Galileo’s Greasy Spoon”? Honestly, the
food is surprisingly good. Better than Stuckey’s, that’s for dern sure. The
meal I ordered, “The Red Planet,” consisted of an amazingly tasty barbeque pork
sandwich, slaw, and fries.
Thus
fortified, it was back over to the rocket hall for our movie. When Dorothy
picked the film after at look at the Center’s website, she had said she just knew we would like it. I wasn’t so
sure: an airplane movie at the Space Center (conveniently
forgetting we saw one of the Harry Potter films in the IMAX one year)? Turned
out your old Uncle was—for once—wrong,
wrong, wrong. This short movie tells the amazing story of the Reno National Championship Air Races and the
beautiful old WWII war birds that compete in them. My only complaint? I wish
they’d shown Air Racers in the IMAX Theater
instead of the smaller Davidson 3D Theatre.
And that,
muchachos, was that. Fun is fun, but done is done. Except for BUYING STUFF, that
is. On our way out we naturally stopped off in the gift shop for quite a while.
Our purchasing was fairly modest this time, since we’d gone hog-wild last
spring. Couple of toys for the grandkids, a key-ring and a NASA calendar for
Unk. The wonderful Miss Dorothy got me the perfect coffee cup, which made up
for me not getting one last time—seems as “R-o-d” is not a popular enough name
to go on personalized cups. Dorothy found one this time that was mucho bettero than e’en a Rod mug would
have been.
Before we
head for the 4Runner, I maybe ought to mention The Space and Rocket Center is
holding far more special events than they used to. Yes, they still have Space
Camp and Aviation Challenge for both little folk and adults, but there is more than
that going on. While we were there they were preparing for their annual
Christmas Celebration with Santa in Space. And this week they will be hosting
the Apollo 17 Fortieth Anniversary
Celebration. In addition to other cool things, attendees will get to have
dinner with Apollo 17 scientist-astronaut Harrison Schmidt. Wish I could be
there.
The denouement
of our wonderful Thanksgiving adventure was that we hopped in Miss Van Pelt and
motored back to the motel for an hour or three of rest before supper. That
supper was indeed a splendid one at Rosie’s. Since we could walk from the motel
to the restaurant—less than 100 meters away—Unk felt free to embrace as many
draft Dos Equis beers as he wanted. Those merely complemented the enormous
spread of fajitas that hit the table just a few minutes after we ordered. Even
Unk could not finish it all, though he did manage to make at least a noticeable
dent in the beef fajitas, Mexican rice, huge mounds of sour cream and
guacamole, beans, and uber fresh lettuce and tomato.
Back in the
motel, Unk paid for all that spicy food (onto which he’d slathered huge dollops
of the deadly El Yucatano hot sauce),
so I sat up for quite a while surfing the QRZ.com and Cloudy Nights bulletin boards and
the cable TV. In his condition, buoyed by all that grub and beer, it almost
seemed possible to Unk that the silly hunters of Finding Bigfoot might see something stranger than a passing possum.
Naturally they didn’t, and I eventually drifted off into dreams of mighty space
wheels spinning in star-spangled night.
Want to see lots more pix of Unk and Miss D's trip? I've posted an album on Facebook. Not a Friend of Unk? Just ask; I have, like George Takei, never turned down a Friend Request.
Just as I was finishing the blog, I received word that Sir Patrick Moore had died. I will have some more to say later, but for now I will just say that I am in mourning. If not for Patrick, I would not have found my way into astronomy. He was an inspiration to me from the day I picked up one of his books in my elementary school's library, and though I was never able to meet him in person, I consider him my mentor. We are all mortal and Patrick was very old and I knew he'd be taken from us someday. But I never wanted that "someday" to become "today."
Just as I was finishing the blog, I received word that Sir Patrick Moore had died. I will have some more to say later, but for now I will just say that I am in mourning. If not for Patrick, I would not have found my way into astronomy. He was an inspiration to me from the day I picked up one of his books in my elementary school's library, and though I was never able to meet him in person, I consider him my mentor. We are all mortal and Patrick was very old and I knew he'd be taken from us someday. But I never wanted that "someday" to become "today."
Next Time: Unk's Messier Album 4…
Comments:
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Dang, that food looks good! Sounds like a great trip.
Very sad to hear about Sir Patrick, few people can have made such a contribution to astronomy as he has done, truly a giant. May he rest in peace.
Very sad to hear about Sir Patrick, few people can have made such a contribution to astronomy as he has done, truly a giant. May he rest in peace.
Seems like you had a wonderful time, Uncle Rod!
The museum’s apparent role as a PR center for the military-industrial complex may look alarming. Raytheon-sponsored math show?? Battlefield of the future?? But on a more sober reflection, the problem for peace is not that the public knows _too much_ about math and missile defense technology. Space exploration naturally rubs shoulders with more questionable applications, same as in other technology fields, I “grok” that.
Learned of Sir Patrick’s departure from your blog. A passing of an era. Liked his non-astronomical views or not, Sir Patrick was a straight shooter. Astronomy-wise, now we have only the books, the videos, and the Caldwell list. Sad.
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The museum’s apparent role as a PR center for the military-industrial complex may look alarming. Raytheon-sponsored math show?? Battlefield of the future?? But on a more sober reflection, the problem for peace is not that the public knows _too much_ about math and missile defense technology. Space exploration naturally rubs shoulders with more questionable applications, same as in other technology fields, I “grok” that.
Learned of Sir Patrick’s departure from your blog. A passing of an era. Liked his non-astronomical views or not, Sir Patrick was a straight shooter. Astronomy-wise, now we have only the books, the videos, and the Caldwell list. Sad.
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