12 hours before Snowmageddon closed all three Washington DC airports, I bought a seat out on the last plane expected to make it out. My mission: a pilgrimage to KSC to view the last scheduled nighttime Shuttle launch.

It was not my first time seeing a launch. I had driven 14 hours straight with a few carloads of friends from JSC back in the 90’s for my first and I am still moved by the jaw dropping, tear bursting impact it had on me. We were around our cars on the causeway in the heat and when the countdown hit zero we saw the flash of light and the shuttle gracefully clear the tower and begin its ascent into the heavens on a plume of smoke and thousands of human’s combined effort. By the time the sound waves blasted past us three seconds later, I was already in tears, leveled by the extraordinary beauty of what we as a species are capable of.

Working in the Astronaut office I also knew that the crew would not be able to stop and be moved by what was happening. They have simulated this a thousand times and their job was not to make this any different. I felt an extra pang of intensity as if I had to feel enough for all of them-– an emotional surrogate (just like in my favorite Twilight Zone episode).

Coming back to KSC I was worried if this launch would compare to that chest shaking, mind blowing experience. I went to one of the pre-launch parties and caught up with some of my space friends and met a few new ones. We talked about where we would view from and the latest happenings in the space world. Garrett told us he would be working the launch, helping the crew suit up. I quickly told them that one of the last things at NASA that I was really nostalgic to do, was to see the crew walk out, wave to the media one last time and climb into their astrovan. Jenny Scheer quickly offered to take me there and suddenly the game was on.

The next night after a short disco nap, we got up at near midnight to head out to KSC. I met up with Jen and she wisked me away in her jeep outfitted with a wi-fi extender, super-camera, laptop, 3 A/C power outlets, an iPhone and a full wardrobe of Land’s End Space Tweep Society embroidered gear. We made our way over to the out of the way building where the crew suit up for launch. There was a line up of media at the barrier, but surprisingly few people beyond them. We ran into Robert Pearlman of CollectSPACE and he updated us on what was happening from his prime barrier-side perch.

After waiting in the cold-for-Florida air, we saw Garrett and his colleagues emerge to pre-load the astrovan with the crew’s helmets. We went wild. “Garrett!!!!” I screamed, knowing that professionalism would dictate he pretend not to hear. That was all I needed. I felt connected to the mission. Someone I knew was there. Making it happen. I could experience it through him. With NASA TV on Pearlman’s laptop indicating the crew was coming next, he waved me to crouch under his tripod at the barrier to get a better view. Everybody loves to give a first timer a good experience. I think it is for the same reason. They can feel the thrill of the first time through me, just the same way I can feel connected with the mission through Garrett. I gratefully accepted and pressed up against the plastic holes in the barrier to get my camera lens through.

Then they rounded the corner, in orange suits and big smiles, willing to share their fortune and grace with those interested enough to see them off. I was excited for them (and their one rookie!) about to blast off into space to bring the space station its crowning jewel of windows– the cupola. They boarded the iconic silver airstream and headed off to the pad to start working.

After notching my belt, we jumped back into the jeep and drove out to see where the old beenie cap (that usually sits atop the orange tank until just before liftoff) and the old crew entry gantry from the de-commissioned shuttle pad were resting out in a field. It was staggering to wander around them, the pitch black cut only by the jeep’s high beams. It was the kind of darkness that is rarely found in cities but is always accompanied by a rich reward of twinkling stars and even a planet or two that the iPhone was happy to identify for us.

We headed back to the VAB to rejoin the masses of people assembling for the 4 am Shuttle launch…

Safety back in my viewing area, I found my husband and told him of our adventures. Alongside everyone else, we sweated out the ‘go’/'no go’ calls at T-minus 9 minutes. After a disappointing scrub the first night, we were ecstatic to hear everyone give their ‘go’ for flight. Eyes adjusted to the night sky, we stared at the pad and counted down with the announcer, 3…2…1! An explosion of light again, this time much more brilliant against the dark sky and as the shuttle climbed up into the clouds the glow of the engines threw off a huge halo of beautiful blue sky in its wake. The sound wave reverberated off the buildings and still brought a tear to my eye, humanity was once again slipping the surly bonds of Earth. And we were now being written into the same history books that recorded those final momentous Saturn V launches back before I was born. This would be our legacy to pass to our kids. Yes, we were there. Yes, it was a stunning thing to behold…My dearest hope is that they have even more awe inspiring technologies to enable our space future than we do. Either way, this is a moment in time, like Kitty Hawk, that is remarkable just for its audacity to say, “we can.”

In the darkness you could follow the glow of the engines even minutes after launch. We all stood in respectful silence, our thoughts and attention focused on the crew and what it was like to be on the other end of that thousand mile plume. There was a collective sigh of relief and joy when we heard the call for “MECO.”

I was proud. Of my species, of the men and women who collectively can make something that complex work, of an industry that holds open the potential of space for our planet. I am grateful that I have the privilege of being a part of that and of knowing the people who make it all happen. A special thank you to all of them. It is through you that I get to connect into one of the most amazing collective experiences we have. And that is what struck me most about this trip. A lesson I had first learned when wandering the streets of Greece alone in college. That it is not just where you are, it’s who you are with.