Space tourism, in essence, is the grand notion that perfectly ordinary Earthlings—those not equipped with the uncanny ability to navigate zero-gravity toothpaste tubes—can pop off into the great black yonder for a bit of a lark. Forget sandy beaches and overpriced theme parks; this is about strapping yourself to a glorified tin can, hurtling upwards at positively alarming speeds and floating about like an unmoored balloon while marveling at the blue marble of Earth hanging below. Thanks to some rather clever boffins with an alarming fondness for rockets, these cosmic jaunts are becoming a tad more feasible. It’s the ultimate holiday—part thrill, part existential epiphany and entirely the sort of thing that makes dinner party anecdotes insufferably unbeatable.
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