Rocketry

So speaking of rockets, want to bond with your kids? Share a hobby? Do father-son things? Me too! I thought we would try model rockets 'cause the kid likes space. He loves to sit and ponder various goings-on in the solar system such as why there are gaps in Saturn's rings. Needless to say, I spend a lot of time on the internet researching answers to these questions - 'cause although I can operate a motor vehicle, plug in a microphone, and sometimes build a little fort, when it comes to anything academic I have been fortunate enough to have flushed anything more complicated than comparison shopping down the toilet. It was during one of these comparison shopping internet escapades that I saw an ad for a local hobby shop that carried model rockets.

So we go to the hobby shop. And well, uh.. We discover that it's basically some kind of Mecca for geeks. There's your standard computer geek, the model train geek, the RC whatever (don't you dare call it 'remote control') geek, and God knows what other kinds of geeks all clustered under one roof. It's frightening, really, and we shuffle off to the rocket part of the store trying to avoid being fallen over or maybe lit on fire by other shoppers. Upon arriving at the rocket aisle, the kid starts announcing the advertised heights that each different rocket is capable of achieving.

Kid: '1000 feet, 1100 feet, oh look poppa this one goes 2000 feet!!'
Me: 'Mmmhmmm.'

All the while, I am scanning the same model packages as he is, looking for something that says 'Assembles in 10 minutes'. No dice. After a lengthy exchange between the kid and myself, we decided to compromise, which is a good word to know when you're five. We get the rocket that goes 1100 feet, and assembles in about an hour. Now we need, lets see, glue, engines, and a bunch of other... oh, okay, I see, this comes with a launch pad - that's nice - I mean for $30 you'd hope.

Total bill out the door: $45
Dad of the weekend: Priceless

Right? Right. Okay, so we go home and proceed to open the package at the table and read the instructions. The kid, of course, wants to help - and who can blame him - but after reading through the instructions it seems as if making even the tiniest mistake will cause the rocket to veer off course or even disintegrate mid-flight, so I take on the majority of the putting-together part while he dances around me kicking the table at the most inopportune times.

Kid: 'Is it ready yet?'
Me: 'Almost, we have to let this part dry first.'
Kid: 'What does flammable mean?'
Me: 'It means that it can catch on fire.'
Kid: 'What does inflammable mean?'
Me: 'The same thing. English is just weird that way. Where are you seeing that?'
Kid: 'All over the packages and stuff.'

Cheery. So I find a few things for him to do while the rocket dries - including reading about the science behind how it works and how to operate the launcher, and then we're off to the park. According to the instructions, we should find a place that's at least 25'x25' to launch this baby to ensure safety. I figure the back field of an elementary school should do just fine, so we go and set up our launch pad in the middle of a patch of dirt, and point the rocket upwards, and hook up the lau- . . . heyyyy,

Me: 'Stop dancing around that launcher.'
Kid: 'But I want to launch it!'
Me: 'You can, just wait until I am done hooking it up and we do a count down, or you'll accidentally launch it up poppa's shirt.'
Kid: (maniacal laughter)

So I hook up the little alligator clips - while keeping a reeeel close eye on the kid, and then back off, and we do the countdown:

Us: 'Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Blastoff!!'
Rocket: 'SSSSHOOOOOOOOM!!!!!'
Kid: 'Where did it go?'
Me: 'I don't know, I think, lets see... Oh, okay. See that little black spot up there?'
Kid: 'Yeah..(?)'
Me: 'That's it, and.. it's.. drifting.. over those, houses there, and... Okay, so we need to go to the car - right now.'
Kid: 'Okay.'

So we hastily pack up the launch pad and accessories, and beat it to the car to go look for the rocket. We drive around about where it should have landed, but don't see it. I get out of the car, talk to a few people, and look in a few back yards, but it's nowhere to be found. Kid distraught. 25'x25' my ass. Second trip to the hobby shop imminent.

'Okay', I say. 'This time we're going to use the big park next to the school, and we'll just have to wait until there's no people where we are launching it, okay?' So we go back to geek central, get another rocket, and we're on our way. This time, the kid picks out something called the 'Sizzler' which goes 2000 feet according to the package. He's excited. I am a little hesitant, but figure that we have a lot of room to work with in the park. I decide to get all prudent and write my cell number on the side of the rocket, so that if it gets lost, then maybe someone will call us. That's thinkin' now, ain't it?

Second rocket, plus new rocket engines: $25
Dad of the afternoon: Priceless. Right?

Two beers later the rocket is all assembled and also no one has managed to glue their fingers together yet, so we let it dry for a few and then head out to the park. We pick a little corner of the park to set-up in, and angle the rocket ever-so-slightly towards the center of the park, figuring it will land in a nice little sea of green grass, and we'll have the added bonus of being able to tell if anyone (other than us) is in danger.

Us: 'Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Blastoff!!'
Rocket: 'SSSSHOOOOOOOOM!!!!!'
Kid: 'Where did it go?'
Me: 'I don't know, I think, lets see... Oh, okay. See that little black spot up there?'
Kid: 'Yeah..(?)'
Me: 'That's it, and.. it's, wow, that went a LONG way didn't it?'
Kid (jumping up and down): 'Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!'
Me: 'We better start running.'
Kid: 'Yeah!'

And we run across the whole park, length-wise, and lose sight of the rocket along the way. And it's not in the park. And we look, and we look, and finally cross over to the adjacent grade school where we had (ironically) launched the first rocket, and then we see it. Well, part of it anyway - here it is:
As you can see the nose part and parachute had separated from the body at some point, and one of the fins was broken.

Kid (disheartened): 'It's all broken.'
Me: 'I know, we-'
Kid (missing the irony): 'Hey look, at least we still have the phone number part.'
Me: 'We sure do. . .'

So, back to the geek-shop we go. How hard can this be? This time we park and walk in and go to the rocket aisle, and now I'm looking for the biggest, slowest hunk of crap I can find. Preferably something indestrucable too. No more balsa wood for me.

Me: 'Hey [name-of-kid], what about this one??'
Kid: 'It doesn't say how high it will go. . .'
Me: 'Oh but look, it's huge and it has two space shuttles attached to the sides! That's like three rockets in one!'
Kid: 'Yeah!!!'

Oh, I'm sure there is a special circle of hell given to deceivers, but I'm already on that list on account of Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, an imaginary person (Fred) who has periodic gastrointestinal issues, and who knows what else, so I figure it's worth the gamble. So we get the rocket and our make plans to head back to the stupid fucking park.

Third rocket, plus another six-pack: $25
Dad: Whatever.

So I'm a wiz at putting together rockets now, and despite the fact that this one had attachments and complicated things I let the little guy help out too. Hell, why not. And we go to the stupid park, and hook up the stupid rocket, and wait for the stupid people to get out of the stupid way. I point it vaguely 'up'. And we wait. And there's this lady. An elderly lady walking this little dog that is really too small to be allowed, and they're both shaking as they walk. Slo w l y. Nice.

Kid: 'When can we launch the rocket?'
Me: 'We have to wait for that lady there to pass...'
Kid: 'That's a really little dog.'
Me: ' I know.'
Kid: 'Is it trying to poop?'
Me: 'I don't know, probably, hey, umm, I spy with my little eye, something that is - '
Kid: 'Poppa, we already played that game.'
Both of us: ...
Kid (when the lady is now 8 feet away): 'Poppa, why are old people so slow?'
Me (burying my head in my arms): '[name-of-kid], just, shut up.'

And after what seemed like an eternity, seriously, the old lady rounds the corner and we do a countdown and launch the rocket:

Us: 'Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Blastoff!!'
Rocket: 'SSSSHOOOOOOOOM!!!!!'
Kid: 'Where did it go?'
Me: 'I don't know, I think, lets see... Oh, okay. See that little black spot up there?'
Kid: 'Yeah..(?)'
Me: 'That's it, and.. it's, it's landing. on. that. house. over. there...'
Kid (jumping up and down): 'Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!'
Me: 'We better start running.'
Kid: 'Yeah!'

So we go over to the house, and I can actually see the rocket this time, and both shuttles that it carried up along with it. On someone's roof. Wayyyy up there. I scrounge around and find a big long stick, and then pause for a moment. I better ask the homeowner if this is okay... *Bing Bong* a little kid looks through the glass at the side of the door, gets a terrified look on his face, and then runs away. Doh! I deftly hide the big stick behind my back. Door opens, homeowner seems somewhat concerned about the situation, but ultimately agrees to let us fish for the rocket. We fish. We retrieve! It's in one piece! The score is now:

Rockets: 2
Us: 1

So I figure, hey, we can do this, right?. Now, instead of 'vaguely up' I decide to try the ever-so-slightly angled towards the center of the park trick again, figuring, once again, that the rocket and shuttles will splash down nicely in a sea of velvety green grass. Hah!

Us: 'Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Blastoff!!'
Rocket: 'SSSSHOOOOOOOOM!!!!!'
Kid: 'Uh oh.'
Me: 'Oh. Shit.'

As it turns out, this rocket is much heavier than the others we launched, and it seems to have weighed down the little metal launching stick as it took off, meaning that what was maybe once a 5-degree angle has now turned into a 35-degree angle. It's almost surreal to watch, as the rocket, with rugged (and sharp) plastic tip crosses the entire park at roughly head level, headed for a basketball game on the other side. It must be about 400 yards to the basketball court, so they aren't going to hear a word I shout - so I just get to sit and watch this all in slow motion and hope that no-one gets impaled. To make matters worse, the parachute has decided not to deploy and help us out. It's basically a missile at this point.

From the basketball court: 'HEADS!!!'
Me: 'We better start running.'
Kid: 'Yeah!'

Looking up, I see ten ball-players flat on the pavement and a basketball rolling slowly along, somewhere in the center of the court. It's a long walk to the basketball court. Long walk. With twenty eyes wondering why you might have almost put them out. Long ass walk. Looks like most of the players are kids. Looks like their parents are there too. Awesome. I cling to my 5-year old for support, hoping that if I look like I'm playing the ignorant part of 'fun dad' instead of 'vengeful negligent jerk' that I won't be stoned to death. After some awkward apologies and small talk, we retrieve the rocket from the other side of the court (it had apparently hit a fence and finally fallen). It was still in one piece, still with both shuttles attached too - they never deployed.

Kid: 'We can go and launch it again an-'
Me: 'Hey, [name-of-kid], how would you like to have a fish tank?'
Kid (jumping up and down): 'Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!'
Me: 'Let's go to the pet store. . .'

For sale: One tried and true rocket with two shuttles. Smells vaguely of sulfur. $3