How much would I pay to go to the moon? Probably nothing. Not because I wouldn’t want to go, but because I’d be paying for my own funeral. I’m realistic enough to know that NASA’s pre-flight physical would rule me out faster than you can say “oxygen deprivation.” I’m a teacher and a writer, not an astronaut.
That said, I do love a challenge. Mission: Space at Epcot? I go full throttle—the version that made my wife turn pale and vow never to step inside that centrifuge again. VelociCoaster at Universal pushed my heart rate to 130 beats per minute, and I loved every second of it. So yeah, the idea of blasting off and seeing the Earth rise over the Moon’s horizon sounds… pretty incredible.
That’s where the writer in me takes over. I’d want to paint that picture in words—the silence, the stillness, the way home looks small enough to hold in your hand. That kind of view changes you, and I’d want to capture it the only way I know how: with sentences that might, for a moment, make someone else feel what it’s like to stand on lunar dust.
But pay for it? With what money? Even if money were no object, I’d hesitate to spend suitcase-loads of cash on a trip to the moon knowing how much good that money could do here on Earth. I’d rather be invited to go—sponsored, if you will—to document the experience properly.
Honestly, they should pay me.
By the word.
Or by the mile.
(For the record, it’s about 238,855 miles—give or take a comma.)
Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.
