This week, Ruben and Jason, our Project Director and Space Systems guy, respectively, are out at the Team Summit in California. Knowing them, I’m sure they’ll have plenty of travel stories—the catch is, how much of it will be G-Rated enough to put up here…?

Meanwhile, your intrepid PR guy is bravely defending the home front here in beautiful, unseasonably warm Florida. I’m actually very privileged to be attending the Undergraduate Space Academy put on here by Space Florida, one of the Prize’s Preferred Partners. Our objective over the course of the program is to put together a simple (?) weather balloon payload to launch on Friday morning.

The best part, however, is the amazing behind-the-scenes tours that come with the package. This afternoon, I got to stare into the business ends of both an Atlas V and a Delta IV. While we weren’t able to head out to the pad (because there’s a sensitive military satellite at the top right now), we were able to see a Delta IV-Heavy, largest operating rocket in the world, from the processing facilities and the ASOC. The thing packs three engines that each put out the power of eleven Hoover Dams. It really is a great opportunity for students like me, and I’d like to thank Space Florida, Tony Gannon, Dr. Larry Chew, and Emma Rader for having me.

Speaking of students, it’s probably time I addressed a… “concern” that I hear a lot when I present our mission plan to various audiences in the aerospace industry. It’s actually kinda funny: People are not at all skeptic about the idea of a private lunar mission, no one asks us “Is this really possible?”—Instead, what I get more often is “But wait…aren’t you all students?”

I respond to such expressions of doubt and skepticism with “Yes—that’s why we’re going to win”. Being comprised of students from some of the most prestigious universities and institutions in Florida, the nation’s home for space exploration, does not put our team at a disadvantage—it’s our greatest strength.

As students, there is literally nothing to hold us back: We’re not slowed down by government paperwork and red tape, and, as a non-profit corporation, we’re freed from viewing everything through the lens of making bank and from worrying about keeping shareholders happy. We have a workforce of hard-working men and women, each and every one of them solid gold, and willing to work for free. How many prominent aerospace firms can say that?

I wonder if the nay-sayers are part of a larger trend of faltering confidence in the abilities and potential of the individual, of a growing contempt for the common man or woman. I hope not. I hope we never forget, never stop believing in what “the little guy” can do. I hope we never forget what two hobbyist brothers tinkering around in a bike shop built, and how their “hobby” changed the world. I hope we never forget the lesson in how the idle fancies and fantasies of a bored clerk daydreaming on the job literally became the foundation of modern physics, and made the name Einstein synonymous with genius and insight. I hope we all spend a minute or two pondering the more recent story of Peter Homer from last summer. Though unemployed in these times, and not having much relevant experience aside from sewing boat sails, he worked from home and developed a better glove for astronaut space suits. It landed him a job to support his family with—not to mention $200,000 from NASA.

Then, there’s the astronauts themselves. Ever since the Mercury 7 found themselves in the spotlight, the media at large have often portrayed them as superhuman in skill and courage. I suspect, however, that the true reason the rest of have always looked up to them is just the opposite: because they’re just like us. They came from humble families that often had to be frugal to make ends meet. They now have families and kids of their own that they put before everything else, they drive used Fords and Chevys to work, some of them talk in funny accents. They come home after a crummy day at work and hope that tomorrow will be better.

You see, it’s the ordinary guy who does great things—otherwise, they wouldn’t be great.

In technical news, our team may reach a final decision this week on using this amazing computer system my brother and I have selected as the brains of the OmEn-1 rover. I probably shouldn’t divulge the make or model just yet, but I will say that it’s PERFECT for our needs. We just need to figure out a way to shield it from cosmic radiation—but that’s another story. See you next week.