Millionaire's outer space vacation is no day at the beach
by Beth Teitell

Tuesday, May 1, 2001

What was California millionaire Dennis Tito thinking? I know this shows a certain lack of curiosity, but if I had $20 million to spend on a vacation, I'm not sure space is where I'd choose to go.

True, the views are supposed to be spectacular - you can see all the world's oceans - but I've heard the shuttle to the beach runs infrequently.

And talk about a schlep. You don't have to change planes, but even so, between the round trip and the orbiting, you're traveling 2.5 million miles, and you know the in-flight movie is going to be in Russian, or, worse yet, it's in English, but it's ``Autumn in New York,'' the Richard Gere-Winona Ryder vehicle - and they show it coming and going!

While you would earn tons of frequent flier miles, who knows which airlines the Russian Space agency is partnered with, and what kind of blackout restrictions would apply? Something tells me those miles aren't going to fly you to Aruba in February.

What happens if they lose your luggage? The Soyuz gate agents are very strict about the two carry-on pieces rule, and at the same time, the shopping at the International Space Station stinks. A Restoration Hardware and a Gap, and other than that it's catalog or Internet only, and good luck getting UPS to pick up a return.

Imagine, you've dropped $20 million on a trip, and you've got to spend your whole ``holiday'' wearing that stupid baggy suit and clear bubble hat you traveled in. Believe me, you'd hate yourself in the pictures.

The tanning possibilities aren't good, either. I thought they would be, but it turns out to be one of those annoying ``too much of a good thing is bad'' things. Even if you build a base at Tanorama before you go, you'll burn. Try explaining those bikini lines to your dermatologist. I used Banana Boat SPF 2 trillion, I swear I did.

And what about the food? As a child, I used to beg my mother to buy Tang, but now I prefer a good cabernet. And when I'm dropping $20 million, I like to go to out to a nice restaurant, or at least have room service.

Besides, what is Tito going to do all day once he's looked out the window once or twice and finished floating around reading his Judith Krantz novel? Everyone else up there is working, and I know from personal experience that being at leisure in a confined office space while others are toiling gets kind of awkward.

Anyone want to go for coffee?

No, OK, I'll just keep flipping through this magazine.

As you probably heard, Tito reached his destination yesterday and promptly declared, ``I love space!''

There's one explanation for this statement. He realizes he made a big mistake with his vacation choice, and is trying to convince himself he's happy. No, really, I like the Cape when it rains. I'm glad it poured the whole time, and so are the kids and my in-laws.

Instead of enjoying one of those fancy trips you see advertised in the New Yorker - ``Discover the wonder of the Mayan coast!'' ``Learn to cook in Provence!'' - the multimillionaire is stuck in the flying equivalent of a youth hostel, the kind of place with no little bottles of shampoo or nice terry robes, and you know his cell phone probably doesn't even work up there, or if it does, the roaming charges will be out of this world.

I guess there is one good thing. When Tito arrived at his destination yesterday, his commander aboard the Soyuz, one Talgat Musabayev, declared, ``Dennis looks younger, maybe 10 years younger now.''

Even Lancome doesn't make those kind of claims. Perhaps zero gravity erases the tiny lines that even the most expensive moisturizer can't fight.

Maybe space isn't so bad after all.