Photo Credit: (NASA/Dick Clark)

“A sentimental journey into history.” That’s what the Houston flight controller called it as Atlantis soared into a clearing sky laced with thin, patchy clouds this morning. In the end, the weather that had everyone worried last night caused only a slight delay, a couple of minutes, and the shuttle lifted off at 11:29 Eastern time. I missed seeing it live, as I feared I would. Stupid commute. I’ve been feeling vaguely guilty about it all day, as silly as that sounds. But you know, I saw the very first launch live. I was late for school that day so I could see it. I guess I feel like I should’ve done the same to honor the final launch as well. To bring everything properly full circle. But duty called, and like a good little corporate drone, I obeyed. Needless to say, my heart wasn’t really into looking for misplaced commas today.

Fortunately, the Internet provides in a way that Walter Cronkite never could, so I’ve been able to watch the replay, at least. If you didn’t see it live yourself, you can catch the full 10-minute clip, covering main-engine start to external tank sep, here. Some of those “POV” videos in the past have been pretty washed out and uninteresting, but this one is superb, especially right at the end when the orbiter is getting ready to drop the external tank. The lighting is perfect; you can make out every tile on the shuttle’s belly, every ridge on surface of the tank. You can even see a bolt sliding open on the tank’s forward mounting bracket at the moment of separation. Truly magnificent.

I did not cry, as I predicted a few days ago, but it was nevertheless a deeply emotional and bittersweet experience for me as I watched the video. So many familiar things — the “sparkler” effect of the main-engine igniters; the way the three cones of the main engines gimbal slightly inward just after the roar to life; the graceful roll maneuver that turns the shuttle upside down just after she clear the tower; and of course the moment that still, after all these years, makes my jaw muscles clench slightly: “Go at throttle-up.” — and all of them happening for the very last time, as the helpful Houston controller kept reminding. A wave of sadness passed through me when he noted that there was “only one minute of powered flight remaining for Atlantis,” and then again at “for the last time, the shuttle’s main engines have fallen silent.” These machines have been performing so smoothly over the past couple of years, it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that this is the proverbial it for them.

But as I said, no tears, at least not over the launch itself. You want to know what really got to me today? It was this:

The closeout crew, if you don’t know, are the ones who help the astronauts aboard the orbiter, get them in position and all strapped down, and then seal up the ship for lift-off. They are the last people to have any contact with the astronauts before launch, the last people the astros see before leaving the world of their birth. And they’re all out of a job as of today. From the looks on some of the faces in the video, that was very much on their minds. I wish them well, and hope they’ve all got new gigs lined up somewhere.

With all the hype over this being the last flight, I don’t think many sources are mentioning what the mission even is. So, to correct that, Atlantis will be up for 12 days, delivering what I’ve heard described as a year’s worth of supplies and spare parts to the International Space Station. The Soyuz capsules that will be responsible for supplying the ISS from here on, as well as the private spacecraft currently in development, don’t begin to match the shuttle’s cargo capacity, so I guess the idea is to get our outpost on the final frontier fully stocked up. Atlantis will also be bringing home several thousand pounds of equipment relating to shuttle operations… equipment the ISS won’t be needing anymore. God, this is ridiculous! It’s like trading in your reliable, time-tested delivery truck for a SmartCar. Except the SmartCars won’t be delivered from Germany for a couple of years yet, and you have to hitch a ride in your buddy’s AMC Gremlin. Because that’s about what’s happening here. I know the shuttles are expensive, but I just cannot believe there’s no place for them in ISS operations, at least once or twice a year, or in case of emergencies. Shutting them down now seems very short-sighted and foolish to me. Hell, we don’t even have one standing by in case something goes wrong with Atlantis; if that happens, her crew will remain on the station until enough Soyuzes can get up there to bring them back. And I guess Atlantis would be jettisoned and burn up during its unmanned re-entry. Wouldn’t that be an ignominious end to the program? I’m keeping my fingers crossed that that doesn’t happen…

One final note, for the trivia hounds out there: STS-135 is the 135th shuttle flight, the 33rd flight for Atlantis and
the 37th shuttle mission dedicated to station assembly and maintenance.