My mother and I were on a plane in July 1969 flying to Morocco from Madrid.  And everything was going along fine, ride was smooth.  All of a sudden the pilot comes on the intercom, and starts counting down.

10…..9…….8…..

(you have no idea how time slows down when you think your life is about to end.  seriously.  Air Maroc made me nervous to begin with, and then this?  I looked around, no one seemed to be panicking, but that didn’t help me at all.  I looked at my mother, and said, oh well I guess this is it.  Good bye)

7…………6……….5…………4

(I was almost ready to stand up and start shrieking, but knew it would do no good.  So I sat, bathed in sweat, thinking, geez I hope it ends fast.)

3…….2……….1   (OMG)

(well, wait, we’re still here)

Pilot comes back on:  “Congratulations to all the Americans on board, the rocket just took off from Kennedy Space Center for the moon!”  And all the passengers started clapping. For goodness sakes, couldn’t he have said something first??