Sky High in Florida

The rocket went up and up. A plume of smoke followed it. It was almost out of sight before it began to dip back. At that point a parachute should have slowed its descent but it failed to open. We (the boys) watched in horror as the rocket started to plummet to earth. It was heading straight for an old man with a metal detector. This was America, the land of the litigator. We froze, but the rocket kept falling.
* * *
In the distance the space shuttle Discovery sat on its launch pad, hundreds of tons of fuel and metal straining to go into orbit. We had driven a hundred miles to join tens of thousands of others on the Florida coast to watch what television had for days been describing as a great historical event: John Glenn in space again. All roads had become jammed and, hours before the launch, traffic had slowed to a crawl.
The action was at Titusville - an all American town with clapper board houses, front porches, netball hoops on garages, the camper in the drive; huge bill boards and fast food never far away. It is spread thinly along Highway 1 which snakes up the Florida east coast.
The verges were lined with cars and buses. Flags festooned the central reservations and hung proudly from roof tops. Overhead the helicopters from the news corporations cruised up and down the coast, beaming pictures of us to the world. A small airship hovered above us. Air force jets painted giant good luck messages in the sky.
The natives, true to this home of free enterprise were cashing in. John Glenn T shirts, busts and badges were being sold from makeshift stalls and wheelbarrows. Small kids towed trucks full of coke (75 cents but free to police officers _ they're investing for the future).
Every front garden was opened up for parking ($20 "and free use of our restroom").
The Fat Boy Barbecue restaurant announced in large letters "Astronauts over 75 eat free".
At the same establishment I watched an altercation between customer and manager
Customer:"You mean you don't begin lunch till 2.30. That's disgraceful...." [and I could feel that the next move was that he would be seeing his attorney about the matter]
Manager:"No, lunch is on now. They launch at 2.30"
Customer:"Launch after lunch. That's swell"
Manager:"Yes lunch then launch"
With litigious thoughts fading he clasped his turkey sandwich and went back to the shoreline.
And what a launch it was: first a belch of vapour from the engines, then a huge surge of steam as the rocket blast lifted the shuttle and its boosters off the ground. It seemed to start so slowly, but then like an expensive Guy Fawkes rocket it shot into the air, trailing a massive wake of smoke. The flame from the engines was a rich golden colour, brighter than the sun, dazzling us as the entire contraption streaked into the air. Many seconds later its deep roar enveloped us.
Long after the shuttle had disappeared from sight, the crowds continued to applaud before eventually dispersing and causing traffic jams in the opposite direction.
* * *
Nine of us made the trip to Florida and we were "the boys" (the out numbered males of the party): Tom (11), Nick (16) and me (fifty something). We were the ones who, while the girls were trying to find fashion bargains in Florida's ubiquitous factory outlet stores, discovered the rocket under a pile of Barbie dolls in a liquidation toy shop.
This was the real thing, albeit in miniature form. It had a real rocket motor packed with explosives and claimed it could reach 1000 feet.
With the same care as NASA scientists we set about assembling the mechanism, carefully connecting wires, slotting on fins, erecting the launch tower.
The next problem was the launch site. The country has plenty of open spaces but in Florida they are either full of alligator infested swamps or surrounded by high fences and have menacing notices pinned to them warning, in no uncertain terms, that trespassers will be shot (or that at least seemed to be the implication).
Our first chosen spot was in the middle of what looked deceptively like a village green in a neat township. Nobody seemed to notice as we set up the tower, connected the detonator and started the countdown. The first three attempts failed when nothing happened, but on the fourth, the rocket joyfully leapt into the air.
It was then that we noticed the golf carts. Converging from different directions was a posse, driven by people who made John Glenn seem like a youngster.
With thoughts of a shoot out never far from our minds we retrieved the rocket and made ourselves scarce.
But that still left us with three unused rocket motors, and no chance of taking them on our flight back to England without the risk of putting us and the rest of the passengers into orbit.
The search for a golf free launch site proved elusive and, came the last day of our vacation we still had the rocket. The solution was elegant and obvious. There was time between checking our baggage and returning our car to carry out our last launch.
Airports have clear skies and plenty of open spaces. Found another site. Jammed the remaining three tubes of rocket fuel into the fuselage. Counted down. Pressed the button. Worked first time. Not the Shuttle, but with extra fuel, close to the real thing.
Fortunately it missed the man with a metal detector, but it buried itself so deep in the ground that we had to leave it there. Happily, the shuttle came down more gently, even though it too had lost its parachute.
On our way back to the terminal we passed the launch site. The metal detector man was still there, but who was that with the uniform and the gun, and why was a Sheriff car parked nearby with its lights lazily flashing? A coincidence maybe, but nonetheless the boys sunk down in our seats.
I can see it now - the sad report of the Solicitors Disciplinary Tribunal that Barr R E had been guilty of conduct unbecoming to wit: had wantonly launched sky rockets to the annoyance of Florida sheriffs and golfers. Penalty: all rockets to be confiscated and sentenced to do conveyancing for 6 months.

This article first appeared in Solicitors Journal in November 1998