Free Riding Rockets by Mike Mullane Page A

Gloria Steinem and Sally Ride would have thoroughly agreed.
    So, Rhea and Hoot’s marriage was one of the world’s great mysteries, like the rise of life on earth. If the pope were ever to beatify a woman as the patron saint of wifely patience, it would have to be Rhea. Indeed, we called her Saint Seddon for putting up with Hoot.
    If Hoot were number one on NOW’s most-wanted pig list, I would have been number two. As test pilots would say, I operated at “the edge of the envelope.” It was as if I had sexist Tourette’s syndrome. The joker in me would leap from my mouth. Only around Sally did I keep myself somewhat throttled. I had a sixth sense about the danger there, like a dog knows not to paw at a snake. But Sally really wasn’t an issue. After my tits joke, she avoided me like I was criminally insane.
    I definitely tested Shannon Lucid’s feminist tolerance a few times. I liked Shannon. She always struck me as indifferent to office politics, whereas her five peers were clearly vying for that most coveted of titles: FIRST AMERICAN WOMAN IN SPACE. Shannon was just there to do a good job. Whatever came of that, so be it, was the attitude she projected. I admired her for that. Her philosophy would serve her well. Ultimately she would fly five times in space, including a six-month stay aboard the Russian Mir space station. (Sally Ride only flew twice and departed NASA after Challenger. But it’s her name in Billy Joel’s song, not Shannon’s. Life isn’t fair.)
    Shannon’s first flight had Saudi Arabian Prince Sultan Salman Al-Saud aboard and after the mission he invited the crew and their spouses to visit Saudi Arabia. Shannon’s husband could not make the trip. Shannon wasn’t concerned. She didn’t need a man to hold her hand. Wrong. Saudi Arabia did not allow women to enter the country alone. She had to have a male escort. When Shannon heard this she told headquarters she wasn’t going. NASA HQ and the State Department were concerned about the potential press photo featuring only the men from the mission being greeted in Riyadh by King Fahd, so they asked the Saudis to look into their laws for a loophole. I was in my office when a TFNG came in with word they had found one. The Saudis would allow Shannon to enter as Dan Brandenstein’s honorary daughter (Dan was the mission commander). Or, she could enter as John Fabian’s honorary sister (John was another crewmember). Or, they might make a special exception, as they had when the queen of England had visited the country, and designate Shannon an honorary man.
    When the men in my office heard this, we exploded in laughter. What greater insult could a feminist hear than to be told she must take on the label “man” to get some respect. When I heard this, I couldn’t contain the joker in me. I immediately went to Shannon’s office and congratulated her on having achieved the highest honor a woman could ever hope to achieve…to be designated an honorary man. Shannon had a lively sense of humor and laughed at my antics, but I made certain not to walk down the stairs in front of her for the next few weeks.
    Shannon later came into my sights at a Bible study meeting. The astronaut office was filled with devout persons of several faiths. Some of the most religiously committed astronauts were marines, a fact that shocked and awed me. Marines were known for eating their young, not for their “praise Jesuses.” But several had organized a weekly Bible study. Shannon was a member of the group, as were Donna and I. The topic of one meeting was how people who had never “known Jesus Christ” might be treated by God in the afterlife. One group member posed these thought-provoking questions: Could a native from the jungles of Indonesia, who had never heard of Jesus Christ, enter God’s Kingdom? Or how about a mentally ill person or someone born with half a brain?
    The last part of this question was a setup the joker in me could not let pass. I jumped on it.