Felix Baumgartner & Joe Kittinger
My wife seemed perplexed as to why I was glued to my computer this afternoon. The reason to me was obvious. Felix Baumgartner had launched his historic attempt to be the highest, fastest jumper in history. I'd casually followed it for the past few months. Nothing major. Whatever would show up on Slashdot or Ars Technica. No big deal. But the two words that really brought me around this afternoon were "Joe Kittinger".
Yeah, I knew he'd set the previous record of 102,000 feet. I'd actually known that for years. I used to buy the paperback versions of the "Guiness Book of World Records". Kittinger was in there, but I didn't remember his name, just that number. 102,000 feet. Even as a kid, I knew that was high.
But what had me glued to my chair today was his voice. That "Yeah, the kid's in the capsule and my ass is in this chair on the ground, but you will listen to me and do what I say!" voice. I started watching the live mission video about an hour into the ascent. At that time, I didn't get to hear Kittinger, though I saw him on the video. I didn't know that I was looking at Kittinger at the time; I assumed he was just one of the mission crew. Finally, as Baumgartner was beginning his checklist for exiting the capsule, the video cut in so that we could listen to the dialogue between Kittinger and Baumgartner. At times, I got a sense that Baumgartner was having panic attacks. He seemed to freeze, and it wasn't the video freezing either. I could still see other movement, just not him. And then that voice. Kittinger would come on and tell Baumgartner, "I need a response" (or something close to that quote). Then when Baumgartner would do whatever he needed to do, Kittinger would cut in with an "Attaboy!" His voice was at times encouraging, cajoling, concerned, supportive. Whatever it needed to be at that moment in time.
When Baumgartner was at the point where he had to evacuate all of the air out of his capsule, one of the next steps was to open the hatch. The problem was that Baumgartner was a bit impatient during this step. He radioed down to Kittinger that the hatch wouldn't open. Then The Voice again. "Well, you have to wait until the pressure inside reaches ambient. It'll get there." No sense of concern, no sense of "This is a problem". It was a simple statement, said with confidence.
My dumb, fat ass was sitting glued to my desk chair, but at that moment, hearing that commanding, almost booming voice, I was ready to start swimming up the River Styx if he'd commanded me to attack Hell.
There are a lot of reasons why Baumgartner succeeded. He was tremendously prepared. The people who designed and built his suit did an outstanding job. His family was obviously very supportive. His support team was obviously first rate. I'll even give some props to Red Bull, which took a chance and sponsored this. And, of course, there was Baumgartner himself. But I'd like to give a shout out to a retired Air Force colonel, the owner of the previous high-altitude dive record, a Vietnam veteran, a former prisoner-of-war at the infamous "Hanoi Hilton", and to the owner of That Voice. Thanks, Joe.