Hey, here’s some good news! We just got bumped up for departure. Sounds like they’re having problems with the horse.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. You’ve got three movies to choose from today: “Boss Baby,” “Boss Baby 2,” and “Boss Baby 3: All Boss, No Baby.” If you get through them all, you’ll be able to watch them again in Chinese or Turkish.
Now let’s get into some safety procedures. If you’re sitting in an emergency-exit row, you should be willing to perform basic emergency assistance, including repairing damage to electrified solar panels, rewiring the escape pod, or duct-taping a rig of CO2 cannisters to work in the lunar module. If you feel uncomfortable with any of these responsibilities, please keep it to yourself.
In the case of a drop in air pressure, oxygen masks will fall. Put the mask over your mouth and nose, and breathe normally. You’ll know oxygen is flowing if your eyeballs don’t immediately explode.
If there’s an ammonia leak—and I can’t stress this enough—get to work quickly. We’ve had passengers replace the pump controller box in five and a half hours flat. I was watching you as you took your seats, and I think you guys can beat that record. But remember: leave no trace while working, since even a stray fleck of paint can send this spacecraft plummeting back to Earth in a fiery wreck.
It’s a good idea to always wear your seatbelt, even when the fasten-seatbelt sign is off, so that you don’t float out of the pod and get crushed by a series of rapidly rotating gears.
Also, a life vest is located under your seat. That’s really not going to do much for you, but feel free to put it on if it makes you feel better.
Hey, here’s a little more good news from the flight deck. Everyone else just cancelled their launches due to some weather, but we’re going to ride it out. It’ll be a bit shaky right there at the beginning, so please buckle up to protect our gears from your limbs.
See you in space!
