Schaumburg H.S. student witnesses last flight of Discovery
Editor's note: Mike Czmiel, 18, a senior at Schaumburg High School, dreamed for years of attending a space launch and got to do so as a correspondent for the Daily Herald, making him a front row spectator for the last launch of the Discovery space shuttle. Here are his thoughts on the event.
CAPE CANAVERAL — It's 2 a.m. and I wanted to be resting peacefully. Instead, I'm pulling up to the emergency room. A “nose bleeder vein” appears to be broken, or so the receptionist at St. Alexius Medical Center in Hoffman Estates tells me.
With my flight to Florida only five hours away, the wait never ends. I sit staring at the floor, remembering my first glimpse of a space launch.
The fiery inferno first caught my eye 12 years ago, rushing up and into the cloudless night sky of the unusually tenebrous Florida evening as we vacationed 50 miles away. The screaming fight my older sister and I had been halfway through no longer existed; just that small fiery speck.
The shuttle Discovery was soaring toward infinity with six crew members on board. Real people, unlike the fictional characters I had read about before bedtime. Ten times better than the books, it mesmerized me! I promised myself in that moment that I one day would experience the launch from up close.
Now, the wait is over. Shuttle Discovery's last official launch on STS-133 Feb. 24 is mine for the taking!
Thankfully, I get out of the emergency room and make the flight. The first step at Cape Canaveral is getting the media badge, three miles from the launchpad. Then, I'm asked for multiple forms of ID at every checkpoint.
Each mile I get closer, my pulse runs faster. The massive vehicle assembly building, where the shuttle is put together, overtakes me. Going through another checkpoint, I receive an awkward look, then the approval.
Pure bliss! The press site is lush is and a completely unobstructed 8 acres with nothing but a cool breeze. I take a position along the river bank, where a 7-foot alligator stares me down with what I take as jealousy. I deserve to be envied, I think. I'd gone through so much to set this up, including the scrubbed launch trip I had taken in November.
T–three hours: The press site is gearing up. Italian reporters dig for their dictionaries, Japanese and Chinese reporters broadcast live on the Internet.
NASA Chief Technology Engineer Robert Braun assures us “human spaceflight isn't going away; we're just transitioning to the next chapter of the International Space Station.”
T-two hours: All systems go. My camera is set. I had pushed aside two people who set up in front of me — normally I'm a calm guy, but today I won't be pushed around.
T-10 minutes: A complication. The man just a few feet from me keeps mentioning “scrub,” the absolute worst word to hear. A command computer has malfunctioned.
My blood pressure rises; my nerves shorten. I fold my arms to pray Discovery will fly, calling out every saint I know. My last and only chance is today, Feb. 24th.
T-five minutes, still no resolution. My heart is literally pounding my rib cage; knees shaking. NASA will give it just one more minute before pulling the plug.
Then, a scream: Discovery cleared!
T-one minute. Complete silence. The world seems to stop. 49. 48. The alligators have retreated home, the birds have disappeared. 32. 30. Reporters stand motionless, not even breathing for fear of a ruined shot. 3, 2, 1.
Smoke. A rumble. The famous words: “Liftoff of Shuttle Discovery.” My eyes dilate from the light. The repercussions and shock waves shoot through us all. The sounds hit you like hundreds of fireworks exploding at once.
My determination and infinite persistence paid off. Discovery was a beacon of inspiration that made me believe in our country and my generation's potential. I'll never forget this day as long as I live.